


High and Tight

by thecookiemomma



Series: High and Tight 'Verse [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Case Fic, Forced Bonding, M/M, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2012-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 70,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the process of investigating a case, Gibbs and Tony ingest some sort of powder. They have to deal with the consequences of the experiment while trying to solve one of the toughest cases they've had in a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! I've been working on this and threatening to post it since August, and I've almost got it done. I figured I'd post the chapters I've got and edited.
> 
> Please be aware, part of this is much darker than I expected. Mentions -- obliquely -- of suicide and quite a bit of angst woven through. Parts in italics are thoughts.
> 
> Enjoy!

"You got somethin' for me?" Leroy Jethro Gibbs strode into the bullpen, shucking his jacket and tossing it on the back of his chair. "I wanna catch this dirtbag fast. Vance is ridin' my ass about overtime. He pulled his gun and badge, stowing them in the drawer. "We've been chasin' this idiot for a week now. We ougtta have more than piss in the wind, don't you think?" He gazed over at his Senior Agent who was nearly asleep at his desk. "DiNozzo!" He barked his name loudly to wake him up a little, pump the adrenaline through his system. Tony always worked better on a buzz. "You got anything?" He leaned forward just a little to glare at his agent, then strode over to look at the picture on the plasma.

 

Jason Michael Varelli, 33 years old, Italian descent, stared straight back at him. Two kids had found the body of a Marine master sargeant on the corner of their street as they stepped out of their school bus. Luckily, the bus driver was a conscientious old lady who'd been driving the route for as long as Varelli had been alive. She pulled out her cell phone, called the police, and then called their parents to stay with the kids until the cops could arrive. She even did one better: she came back after her route and told Gibbs everything she could remember about how the body was laid out, and the black suburban with the weird license plate that had driven speedily away as she pulled up.

 

That had been their lucky break, and Gibbs had smiled, realizing she'd broken the case for them. "Good. Maybe this will be a closed and shut case, and we can go home at a decent time." Ziva had muttered.

 

"Open and shut, Zeevah," his SFA corrected, "and now that you've said that, you've jinxed the whole thing." He instinctively made the cross with his fingers, pushing it toward her. "Tell her, Boss!"

 

"I'll jinx _you_ if you don't get your damn ass in gear and get to work, DiNozzo!" He had stalked off to get a coffee, but damn if the kid hadn't been right. What looked to be exactly that suddenly dried up like the Sahara in a sandstorm. He licked his lips and drank a gulp of coffee to banish the mental image that brought to mind. They'd gone hunting for his home only to find he'd moved out two weeks ago. No forwarding address. His _employer_ was a known mafia front with ties to several groups. There had even been rumors they were doing wet work for Al-Queda. A week later, they were still scrabbling at crumbs.

 

On the one hand, Jethro was impressed. He only knew a handful of people who could go to ground like that, well, other than DiNozzo or David in a pinch. The others were either part of DC's letter soup, or they were nationals like Eli - fucking - David. On the other hand, he was pissed. He wasn't as focused as he had been with Ari, but part of that was that he'd finally sat down and reread Moby Dick. The "Captain Ahab" comment Tony had made years ago had finally hit home, and he was trying to tone the intensity down. Right now, though, the monster inside of him was screaming for him to push harder. Fighting his natural coping mechanism as well as Varelli made him much angrier. And it showed. He sat down in his seat, and exhaled sharply, going through the known facts in his file.

 

"Boss!" McGee piped up. Jethro looked over hopefully. He'd been following on a hunch that one of Varelli's cousins worked at another shop Tobias had cleaned out recently. He was having to hack through all sorts of files and _then_ filter through loads of information. It was part of why it was taking so long. "Boss, I think I may have found something."

 

"Oh, good, McHackeysack, I really hope so, because Joey is getting tired of me riding his ass." DiNozzo had been calling all his contacts, including a couple who didn't know he was a fed. One of these was a small-time delivery boy for one of the mafia families named Joey Marshall. Amazingly, nothing had come up for Varelli. Gibbs chalked it up to 'family' loyalty, but he'd never met a family _that_ loyal.

"On screen, McGee." The whole team stood to see the information, and as he walked past his senior agent, he cuffed him gently on the back of his head.

 

"Ow, Boss, what was that for?" Gibbs would have smiled if it wouldn't have broken his bastard persona.

 

"Just keepin' your head in the game, DiNozzo. Focus." He returned his gaze to the screen.

 

"On it, Boss." Tony nodded, and did indeed calm down.

 

"Okay, Boss, here's the deal. I hacked into ..." Tim started to list the places he had hacked into, and Jethro held up a hand to stop him.

 

"Don' wanna know, McGee. Gimme the short version." It was a 'known secret' that his junior agent could hack into anything -- and had done so from time to time, but Gibbs didn't want the specifics shouted out in the bullpen. He waved his hand in a gesture he'd come to realize he'd gotten from Jack. "G'wan."

 

"Right, Boss. Anyway, I found this." He pulled up a picture of a guy who looked a lot like their DB, except his facial structure was a little different and something else was off. There was another man in the frame, and as he looked more closely, Gibbs could see it was Varelli.

 

"He's two inches taller than Durrell, Boss. And he's got more Italian in him than our DB. More _paisano_ in the mix, y'dig?" Tony flung his hands out and flashed his boss a quick grin. "But he could be a really close relative to our vic." He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers on his upper arm in a rhythmic staccatto that Gibbs had learned to interpret as clearly as that damn 'loading' bar on his browser. Tony was processing.

 

Gibbs frowned. "What else? So, he knows somebody who looks like our vic. Doesn't find him for us." Jethro brought his thumb and forefinger up to his face in his own 'thinker' pose.

 

"Well, I wasn't sure what to make of it either, until I looked through the file on our dead Master Sargeant, and saw that his mom was a DeRosa." Tim frowned, and brought up a picture of the vic, MSgt. Valentino Durrell.

 

"A DeRosa? Oh, gawd. It's 'old home week', Boss. DeRosas and Varellis are ... " Tony flailed his hands, and Gibbs understood exactly what he meant. Over the years, he'd learned a lot about what the kid had been through in all those PDs. He'd also learned to interpret Tony's personal sign language. The current movements were telegraphing his worry that they were stepping into something bigger than they could handle.

 

The hell of it was, he was probably right.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony ran his hands through his hair, and sighed. He muttered an imprecation in Italian. _Great. Just fucking great._ He looked up at the screen, and shook his head. _I know I'm gonna end up back in._

 

He'd spent three months undercover as a soldier in one of Baltimore's local families. He ended up helping in the arrest of a kid's killer, but waved off the praise. He encouraged his captain to keep him out of the limelight. He wanted to keep his cover intact in case he should ever need it. He hadn't needed _that_ particular one yet, but he had used several other undercover personae to get himself out of trouble once or twice. He felt himself falling into a spiral of stress and worry, or at least until he felt a sharp cuff to the back of his head.

 

"Focus, DiNozzo. Freak out on your own damn time." Gibbs barked the first half, but the second half of his comment was quiet.

 

"Yes, Boss. Thank you, Boss." He gazed up at the screen. "So, that's a DeRosa. And that..." He pointed over at their perp. "...Is a Varelli." He frowned, and moved to his desk, sketching out his memories of the latest connections between the two families.

 

"Okay. Varellis are pretty new. They're an offshoot of the big ones, Boss. The Palmeros, or whatever? Located somewhere in New England. Nobody's really sure exactly where their HQ is. Part of the reason they're so teflon." He sketched a little more, drawing lines between couples and friends. "DeRosa, though, they're from New York. Not one of the Big Five, of course, but they're sort of hangers on. The Untouchables of the Mafia world. I think they may even have a portion of the trash racket. I'm not sure."

 

A familiar voice -- not one of the team's -- replied. "They _do_ , DiNozzo, though how you know that worries me." Tobias Fornell strode into the room, pronouncing his name in the 'Old Way' as usual.

 

"Fornell." Gibbs' tone sounded dangerous, as usual when someone encroached on the man's territory. "Wondered when we'd start seein' you."

 

Tony snorted. Gibbs knew he'd come running, pretty much from the moment they found out their perp had an Italian name. It was pretty sad how many times he was right, though. _Ay, paisanos_. The only Italians he met anymore were fellow LEOs or mafiosi.

 

Tony missed the next portion of the conversation, because he was musing on a familiar topic: how alike the mafia and law enforcement agencies were. They were set up about the same, both had their own 'codes', and both were populated with certain nationalities of people, for the most part. Usually the same ones. He was forcibly returned to the conversation through another headslap.

 

"DiNozzo... stop sleepin' on the job." Gibbs frowned at him, a hint of worry in his eyes. Tony shook his head minutely, letting him know he was okay. Then, he focused on the pictures on the screen, though his hand was still sketching connections. He was pretty sure all he'd missed was the mutual posturing, but he couldn't be sure. He gazed over at McNerd and saw that his expression was a little worried. So, either it was just the posturing, or Fornell had caught Tim's McFishing.

 

"Did what I asked 'im to, Fornell. Tryin' to find Varelli." Gibbs gestured up to the screen. "Jason. Think he killed our perp on orders of his boss." Tony smiled. Gibbs could never bring himself to use the terms they'd use for themselves, at least not without a lot of coercion. Tony could understand that. It gave them dignity and recognition to label them what they called themselves, and Gibbs didn't give criminals recognition, unless he was feeding their pride to break them in interrogation. He listened to Fornell bitch more about the picture. _Ahhh. That's it._

 

"I took that picture, Jethro, and the only way you could have it is if you obtained it illegally." Fornell frowned. "But that's not why I'm down here. I was wondering if we could borrow DiNozzo for a week. There's been a minor shakeup in the DeRosa family, and ..."

 

"You want me to go in to the DeRosa family? It's not going to work, Fornell. I have a couple covers still out there, and neither of them is friendly with DeRosa. For all I know, they could have my picture up on the wall." He added the third factor into his little sketch. The family he'd infiltrated was another small family fighting for the same piece of pie as DeRosa. It had taken some work to get in well, and he didn't want to waste all that hard work.

 

"Well, the problem is that Valentino DeRosa," Fornell pointed him out on the screen, "has gone missing. Now, his capo's looking for him, and he's knocking over all kinds of barrels to do so. It's causing a real stir, and we think it's our best bet to get someone on the inside."

 

"Yeah, it probably is. Tino's probably gone to ground." Tony tapped his fingers on the desk with one hand, his other hand twirling his pencil idly. "Why, though?" His mind naturally spun through several movie plots at once, arcing out to others from those, then he ran through old cases and even touched on a few cop shows he'd seen. Finally, after staring at the pictures for a long moment, he slapped his flat hand down on the desk in a miniature version of Gibbs' angry slam. "The Firm. Much newer than I usually like, but it was practically required watching when I was working as a Homicide Detective. Nineteen ninety-three. Starred Tom Cruise and Gene Hackman." He saw the glare from his boss and fast forwarded the film in his head.

 

 _Ah. There was the scene._

 

"Okay, in this one scene, someone shoots a guy because he looks just like McDeere. That's Cruise's character." He looked around at his audience. "It was really cool, actually. The guy, who they just know as 'The Nordic Man' -- Tobin Bell, I think, walks out of a building carrying McDeere's briefcase. The shooter only saw him in silhouette, so he thinks he's McDeere and takes the shot." Tony frowned, then a funny thought struck him. "It's like its own movie, Boss. 'The Wrong Valentino'." That caused a bit of a reaction. They hadn't thought of that.

 

"Good theory, DiNozzo. Find me some proof." Gibbs nodded once sharply, in that way that Tony knew meant _Atta Boy, keep it up._ Tony nodded, and picked up his phone to bug Joey yet again. McGee and Ziva headed to their own desks to do the same.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They'd gotten enough proof pretty quickly that they were able to start tracking Varelli. The crumbs, such as they were, led them to an old warehouse in a poorer section in the northern part of the city. Tony had muttered something about predictability, but other than that, he was behaving. Jethro snorted to himself. _He's just damn glad we didn't have to send him under. I am too._

 

He gazed across the alley as they stalked silently toward the warehouse. He, Toby and Tony were checking out this warehouse while McGee, Ziva and Sacks checked out the one at the end of the alleyway. They had found several different warehouses in the area that had been used for Varelli _wet work_ , and no one was sure which one it was.

 

As they neared the building, Gibbs signaled to Tony to go ahead and try the door. It swung open easily with only a slight creak, and the older men followed the younger agent into the building, each man covering an area of the room with his gun. Tony walked straight forward, through the hallway, while Jethro checked out the doors on the right. They were basic rooms, filled with all sorts of weird things that seemed to have no particular theme. There were boxes with small household appliances like coffee makers and toasters, and a few boxes of cutlery and crockery. He looked around to see if he could find any sign of Varelli, and when he couldn't, he stepped out into the hall.

 

"Boss, I got somethin'." Tony's voice came floating toward him from the room at the end of the hall. That room was biggest, and so it made sense that they'd find something in it.

 

"Comin' DiNozzo. Fornell? You good?" He called into the room Tobias was looking through.

 

"I'm good, Gibbs. Go see what your boy's got." Gibbs nodded, wondering what the hell this place was supposed to be storing. It looked like Toby's room had linens in it. Sheets and blankets, pillowcases and towels. _It's like a damn department store..._ He paused his stride to consider the thought. _Maybe it is. Maybe it's a storage for soldier boys movin' from one place to another._ He might not label the mafiosos properly out loud, but he knew the structure.

 

He pulled his head from the room and strode quickly forward into the room DiNozzo was examining just in time to hear his subordinate say, "Boss, don't..." Luckily, he had the presence of mind to shut the door behind them before the dust hit his face and he passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Tony crouched a little, mostly out of habit. He frowned in concentration, peering around to make sure that no one was in his line of sight. When was certain of that, he glanced back at his boss. Gibbs gave him the go-ahead, so he pushed the big door open, surprised that it moved so easily. There was a soft 'creak', but it was just the creak a big door made, not from disuse. He noted that, then stepped in. Having taken the lead, it was his responsibility to direct the others. He sent Gibbs to the right, and Fornelli to the left. He got sharp nods from each of them, acknowledging their 'assignments', then they moved.

Tony noticed that this warehouse looked a lot like one he'd done a run to for his capo while he was under. It wasn't the same one, but the layout was similar. He tried to remember what they used it for as he cleared the hallway he walked through. He'd leave the old men to deal with the side rooms; it was this big one at the end that caught his attention. He pushed the door open, then began investigating the room, looking in the small cupboards at the back of the room, examining the table full of small versions of Abby's babies, as near as he could guess. _Yeah, their shapes are about right..._ He'd always thought Abby had the very latest in technology, but maybe there was a reason she had the bigger machines. This was something. He frowned, considering all his options -- at once, of course -- and then called for his boss. "Boss, I think I got something!" He knew that the Feeb wouldn't come along unless he'd found something interesting, but couldn't really bring himself to care. He pulled on the drawer of the lab table, and when it offered resistance, he gave it a good, hard yank. A bright yellow powder came swirling through the air just as his boss stepped across the threshold.

"Boss, don't..." It was all he was able to say before the room started to swim. His intelligent boss slammed the door behind them, keeping the powder inside the room.

Tony's last thought before oblivion was a frustrated, heartfelt, _Oh, shit. Not again._

* * *

 

He awoke. The lights were blue. He began to shake wildly. This was his worst fear, and it was happening again. He was having a tough time breathing. It was different somehow. When he moved, it didn't hurt. It just was ... weird. He inhaled sharply, and the weight on his chest shifted in a way he didn't expect. That scared him more. What was his body doing to him? Would he survive it? He felt the touch of a hand on the side of his body nearest the wall. It stroked his skin, running softly over his ribcage, attempting to soothe and settle like a child. Tony inhaled, let the hand do its work, and then moved his own hand. It was the other hand, the one swinging outward toward the room, the one they'd stuck. It ran down the skin of some ... of ...

Someone else. There was another body in the bed. And the arm slung across him -- the cause of his short breaths -- was stuck as well. He tried to arrange them both a little better. He wondered why there was another -- another man in the bed with him. He wondered why it mattered. He felt good. Better than he had, ever, he thought. There was something going on, but he couldn't place his finger on it. It was -- deep. Like looking down off the top of the Empire State Building and trying to make out the faces on the ground deep. He spun through connections and contacts, known pieces of information, guesses. Nothing in the world prepared him for this. It was a completely new feeling, and he reveled in it. Without speaking a word, or really even alerting the world to his presence (beyond that single caress), he fell back into the depths of sleep.

* * *

 

Gibbs stirred, sniffed the air and opened his eyes. He smelled the familiar scent of 'hospital', and groaned softly. No one came to his aid or told him not to open his eyes, so he did. The blue light made his heart race. He had to think back for a moment to try to remember how he'd gotten here. He took stock of his position, and frowned. It was very different. His arm was flung across another body, and he was pressed up against the other man as closely as he could be. This didn't bother him, and intellectually, he wondered why -- very briefly. However, he brushed it off when the body beneath him began to shudder, he knew -- just knew -- that the other man was afraid. He wanted to whisper soft words, but his throat was too dry. Instead, he ran his hands along the side of the man's body, careful to keep his touches light and gentle. He had to explain to this man somehow that he was going to be alright. If his words couldn't do it, and he couldn't see those eyes, then he'd touch him and calm him down.

Gibbs felt fiercely protective of the man, even without knowing for sure who it was. He closed his eyes again, lids heavy with sleep and the sandy feeling of medication. It wasn't long until the man shifted a little, raised a leg to twine with the other man's, and fell more deeply into sleep.

* * *

 

 **Earlier:**

Ducky was working on a body, pulling the spleen out from its hiding place behind the stomach. "Mister Palmer, please take this and weigh it. It looks slightly distended. Perhaps it has something to do with the odd residue around his mouth. You did run that sample up to Abby, did you not?"

"Yes, Doctor Mallard. I just got back from there." Ducky heard the telltale snap of gloves being pulled onto bare hands. "One spleen -- oh you're right, Doctor. It does look a bit big. Maybe it's got a spot over -- did you see this?" Ducky leaned in to see what the lad was talking about and blinked.

"I missed that, Mister Palmer. Very well done. Let me make a notation, and continue to weigh it. I am positive that has a bearing on our Cause of Death. Speaking of which, Jethro should be here any minute now to receive the news. If all goes according to pattern."

"Yes, Doctor." His assistant set the organ gently into the pan suspended from the scales. "Wow. Doctor Mallard, this thing weighs nearly ten ounces! That's at least three ounces more than normal."

"Yes, it is." He made a notation, drawing a sketch of the tumor. "What could cause such a specific ..." His voice trailed off, and he turned just in time to hear the door open with its usual 'swoosh'.

"Ahh, yes, Jethro. Right on time. I was just telling young Mister Palmer here that you ..." A deeper voice cut him off.

"I'm not Gibbs, Doctor Mallard." Ducky turned to see Leon Vance standing in front of him, arms folded across his chest in a protective stance.

"Director. What a pleasant surprise. What seems to be the matter?" He stepped over to the sink, shucking his gloves. If Leon was here, looking like that, he would be needed elsewhere. "Mister Palmer, please be ready to put our guest back in his accommodations."

"You're right, Ducky. We've got a situation. Agent Fornell just called, and there's been an incident." Ducky was already removing his scrubs, preparing to get his hat and coat. "No, hold on, Doctor. We need to get the HAZMAT gear, and get over to the warehouse they were checking."

"Who was it, Director? Anthony?" That was usually a good guess. The poor boy got himself into no end of trouble on a regular basis. And it seemed that unless it was extremely dramatic, his fellow team members did not even notice. _Perhaps that is how Anthony prefers it._

The Director nodded. "Yes. Agents DiNozzo and Gibbs were infected with a yellow powder. At the time Gibbs called Fornell, they were breathing fine, but something was knocking them out. He didn't last long on the telephone, and didn't even hang up."

"You are certain he said a _yellow powder_?" Ducky wracked his brain to try to come up with some sort of chemical or biological agent that worked like that. "Oh, dear, Director. I fear we shall have to tell Abigail."

"I'll leave that up to you, Doctor Mallard." Leon gave a small smile. "I'll expect you and your assistants in the truck in twenty minutes or less."

* * *

 

Gibbs awoke slowly, his head clouded and sharp, something pushing him to move over _there_. He saw no danger in it, so he obeyed the urge. His SFA was down, and he didn't feel too good either. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, wincing at the pain in his head, and pushed the speed dial for Fornell. It rang, and Toby answered. "Fornell."

"What the hell, Gibbs? I'm just down the hall from you. I'll be there in a moment." Fornell was annoyed, wondering what in the hell Gibbs was thinking. He could hear it in his old friend's voice, and would have thought the same were the tables turned.

"No, Fornell. That's why I'm callin' ya, instead of steppin' out of the fuckin' sealed room to talk to ya face to face. Shut your mouth and listen." He wasn't usually this sharp with Tobias, except in these kind of situations.

It tipped the other man off. "Alright, Jethro, sitrep."

"Yellow powder, unknown substance. I got knocked out, Tony's out still. We both breathed it. Head's throbbin' like a sonuvabitch, but I'm breathin' alright so far. No shower in here. Get a team down here. Hazmats, the works. I'm gonna pass back out for now."

"God, Jethro. Everything happens to you and DiNutzo, doesn't it?" Gibbs had half a second to grumble to himself about the pronunciation of Tony's name, then he felt another urge to pull himself closer to his agent. He wrapped his body around the younger man, sticking his nose in the man's neck. Completely unbothered by his strange behavior, he let unconsciousness reclaim him.


	3. Chapter 3

He'd never been in a situation like this. Director Vance gave him lead for the mission. Tim McGee had led _parts_ of missions before, but he'd always had Tony and Gibbs as backup or directing him via earbud. This time, it was all on his shoulders. The Director had looked at him very serenely, very seriously, and told him that he'd love to be the one going to get his men out, but that it wasn't his place. He was the Director of the agency and had to stay "hardwired." Tim understood what he meant. Tied to the desk. Tied to the phone. Land lines. Secure lines. MCRT. Bandwidth. Yeah. He got it. He agreed, too. Uncharitably, he wished their former director could have understood that as well.

"Gear up." He strode over to their makeshift team. Every one of them had had some sort of training in HAZMAT procedures. Ducky, Jimmy, and Abby were all going along, the last probably only because Ducky insisted. Tim knew how protective Gibbs was of their forensic scientist, but he also knew that woman could handle herself just fine. The image of her whaling on Chip was a pretty strong one. He shuddered, and the team all headed toward the truck. "Alright. We don't know what we're dealing with. Fornell's on site, so I want a medic checking him over while we go get the two other agents." Tim drove to the warehouse at speeds resembling his partner's. "Ziva, you're eyes. I want you watching the outside of the building, keeping an eye open for the dirtbag. If he's here somewhere, he may want to see his handiwork.

"That is a good thought, McGee. I will stand outside. I should still wear the HAZMAT suit, though, correct?" Ziva frowned as she jostled into him. They'd packed the truck tight.

"Everyone has to wear them until we're sure the guys aren't contagious or infectious." He'd reread up on the protocols, and was determined to do the right thing to get them out of this mess. His mind immediately cast back to when Tony was in the hospital with the plague. He'd been very new on the team, and hadn't felt the pang of intense worry he did now every time Tony or Gibbs -- or Ziva -- got into trouble. He grimaced, and parked the truck. They were a short ways off, parked next to Fornell's black FBI sedan and their own NCIS navy car.

They got out and all suited up, Abby bouncing in an odd mixture of worry and anticipation that had McGee calming down a little. He still thought of Abby very fondly. Even if they never -- connected in that way again, he would always love her. He wasn't _in love_ with her, but he still cared for her a great deal. "Okay. Ziva, you stand guard here, patrol around..." Tim set her up in place, the plan in his mind unfolding like a video game level. "Ducky, would you come with me, and Jimmy, can you check Agent Fornell out? The other medic can help you, or you help him, whichever. I just want to make sure he's okay. Let's get this done, people."

McGee led the team to the door, checking that everyone behind him was suited up properly, and then opened it. "Fornell?" Tim called, trying to find the FBI agent.

"In here, McGee." Tim found the man looking through the strangest collection of items. The man was perusing the ... aisles of boxes, looking at sheets and pillowcases.

"Sitrep." He gestured to the medics to begin their assessments.

Fornell gave him a concise report, not caring that the man in charge of the 'rescue mission' was about fifteen years younger than he was. "DiNutzo took the lead, and we entered from that door." That was patently obvious; it was the only door in the building. However, Tim was grateful for procedure. It protected him from thinking too overly hard about "what ifs". "Since he was lead, DiNutzo sent me to check this set of rooms out..." He gestured expansively to the two rooms on one side of the warehouse. "Gibbs took the other side. DiNutzo took middle, headed straight down, and went into the room. He discovered something. It's unclear exactly what he discovered, because the first thing I hear about it is Jethro phoning me to tell me that Tony released some sort of yellow powder into the air and he's going to fall unconscious now. He said they weren't breathing harshly that he could tell and there was no coughing, but it was affecting them very oddly. I've never heard of a substance like this. I've been around a long time, McGee, and seen some crazy stuff. But I've never experienced anything like this."

Tim nodded. "Thank you, Fornell. Jimmy and Daniel are going to check you out, and we'll see what we can do about the other two." He reassured the older man, then moved along to the door indicated. "Ducky!" He called to the ME and Dr. Mallard walked up, looking at the door.

"Hmm. That's strange. This door, unlike the others in the warehouse, has been modified to set up a sealed environment." He turned to look at Tim, face grave. "This does not bode well for our young lads, Timothy." Only Ducky could get away with calling Gibbs a 'young lad'.

"Ready, Ducky?" He readied himself to open the door and glanced around, making sure that the medics had taken Fornell out of the building.

"No time like the present, Timothy." Ducky nodded.

Tim exhaled sharply, his breath coming out in a hiss, making him sound even more like Darth Vader in the iso suit. He pushed the door open, and frowned at what he saw. It was a small enough room with a bed, a table, a sink and a cupboard. There appeared to be a small alcove in the corner with a toilet. While he was looking around the room, Ducky had already headed toward the two men entangled together.

"Their position is definitely indicative of something unusual, wouldn't you say, Timothy?" Tim nodded, as he stepped toward the cabinet and looked down at his boss and his immediate supervisor locked in an embrace. The position wasn't sexual in nature, that he was aware of, but it certainly wasn't 'professional' either. "Help me separate them, Timothy, and I'll see what I can do to assess the situation."

Tim nodded again, and as he was the more fit of the two men, he grabbed Gibbs' arms, trying to get him to release Tony. Even unconscious, the Team Lead had a hell of a grip. Tim fought with the man's arms for a moment until it hit him: 'Work smarter, not harder.' One of his higher math teachers used to say that. It was his motto. Tim stepped back and looked at the pair, and thought for a moment. Then, he reached down, and using a pressure point on Gibbs' hand, he forced the man to release his grip. He pulled Gibbs back on to his back, rolling him off his senior field agent, and disconnecting him from the way he wrapped himself completely around Tony.

"Good work, Timothy. Now. If I can just take their blood pressure and test a couple things, I'm sure we can figure out what would be the best course ..." Ducky stopped mid-sentence as both of the unconscious men started shaking uncontrollably.

"Ducky..." Tim frowned and watched helplessly as the two men shook, almost in a synchronous rhythm. "Ducky, what's going on?"

"I have no idea, my dear boy. There are no signs of head injury or ... any other..." Ducky sounded mystified, worried and somewhat confused. That didn't bode well for anyone. As they shook, Gibbs' arm flung out, and landed haphazardly on Tony's hand. Immediately, as though someone had thrown a switch, the seizures stopped, and the two men were still again.

"Oh, dear, Timothy. I have an extremely bad feeling about this."

Tim, all internal Star Wars references aside, couldn't help but agree.

 

* * *

 

Abby tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the 'all-clear' to come in and inspect and collect the evidence. Normally she didn't get to see the evidence in its native setting, but Leon had sent her along to check the place out. Everyone remembered the mess with the plague. Even those who were not here at the time got briefed. Tony had accepted the fact that his actions were now part of the NCIS training seminar on 'what not to do with unfamiliar mail.' Abby remembered that he had laughed self-deprecatingly and said something about ' _something_ good coming from the whole experience.' Gibbs had slapped him, and given him this odd look.

 _Sometimes I wonder what the Bossman **really** thinks about Tony. _She grinned, bouncing a little more in place as she waited. It was a dream of hers for both of them to find someone to help them feel less lonely. If they could find a long-term solution, that would be best, but even someone who'd last more than a couple dates would be fine. _How hot would it be if they found that in each other?_ She gave another small grin, and then returned her focus to the situation when she heard Timmy's voice in her earpiece.

"Abs, we're ready for you. We're in the last room. The one all the way back." Abby was already moving toward the door of the warehouse, grinning at Ziva as she went through the door. She gave a small wave to Fornell and kept going, listening to Tim continue to talk. "Ducky wants you to evaluate this amateur lab and see if you can get a lead on what the scientist was trying to do."

Abby nodded, then realized Tim couldn't hear her. "Alright, Tim. Give me a minute. I'm almost there. Oh! Interesting. A whole room of bedding. That's kind of hinky, isn't it?" She peered into the room, setting her mind to the puzzle of why there'd be linens in a warehouse used by _mafiosi._ Then, she remembered Gibbs and Tony. _This is why you can't have nice things, Abby. You'd spend all your time on the unimportant things, instead of seeing the big picture._ There was a reason she spent most of her time in the lab. She grinned to herself and stepped into the room where Ducky and Tim were. "Oh, my God. Where are they?" She looked down to see her boss and Tony all curled up together. "Ducky, that's hinky. We have to try to separate them. Are they super glued together? Because we need to do something, don't we? Timmy, help me!"

"Abigail. Stop." Ducky prevented her forward movement with a suit-covered hand. "There is a reason that the two men are in that position. We attempted to separate them and they both went into concurrent seizures. When Tony's hand landed on Jethro's, they stopped seizing. Therefore, I am advising, as physician of record for both men, that they remain in the position that prevents the seizures until we can discover what the yellow powder is. That is where you come in, my dear. Now. If you wouldn't mind..." Abby cringed. It wasn't often that Ducky dressed someone down, but when he did, it was pretty effective. She nodded, and smiled up at the old medical examiner.

"Gotcha, Duckman! I'll get right to it." She looked around the lab taking notes of the different machines. "This one mixes chemicals, making different mixtures of the two -- or more, I guess -- chemicals you put in it. It looks like it's a kid's version, but it's more likely to be a field version. I'd use it to find the right mixture of chemicals to do a particular job. You know, if you were working your way backwards. Have the goal in mind, but not sure how much of what things could do it. High end stuff, Ducky. Not something a low-level Mafia monster would have. I don't think." She tilted her head, and looked over at the next machine. "That one's really interesting. I don't think I've seen one like it before. I'd have to play with it to see what all it did." She continued to look, commenting on the different machines, then she looked down. "Oh, I see. Here's the powder." She reached into her satchel thing, and grabbed an evidence bag. "I'll have to take some of it here, but I want to wrap it in some of that other stuff, too, just to make sure. I want to irradiate it before I do much work. But you know the drill. I'll have to send a sample off to the CDC and ..."

"You are explaining things to the initiated, dear girl. I completely understand. And of course, we all remember..." Ducky didn't finish his sentence, but looked down at Tony-boy, curled up with Gibbs.

"Yeah. I just want to get to work analyzing this stuff so we can figure out what's going on with them. So, do we call a regular cleanup team and get these guys to the hospital?"

"That sounds like our next step, yes. Do collect as much of the substance as you can, as we may need to send it to multiple places." Ducky frowned down at the two men again, then looked over at the silent McGee. "Oh, I am sorry, Timothy. I am encroaching on your purview."

"No, you're fine, Ducky. You two are the experts in a situation like this. Let's get it done." Tim smiled, and stepped out of the room.

"Oh, dear." Ducky looked out past where Tim had left. "You know him best, my dear. Do you think he is okay?"

"Yeah, Ducky. He's just worried. Me too." Abby went back to notation and collection, but heard Ducky's words as he headed out to advise the incoming cleanup team.

"Aren't we all, my dear? Aren't we all."

* * *

 

Tony stirred again, coming awake slowly. He found himself in the bullpen, but it was weird. Instead of being the complete room, it was set up with just his desk and Gibbs, and the elevator. He frowned and looked over at the elevator, noticing that it, too looked _off_. It looked like that episode of that Star Trek show or whatever that McGee was watching where the woman kept losing all her friends. He shuddered, and the room seemed to shake. "That's really weird."

"What's weird, DiNozzo?" Tony jumped about a mile high when he heard his boss' voice. "Where are we? This isn't the bullpen I know. Only two damn desks, and if that's the real elevator, I'll eat my hat."

"You're not wearing a hat, Boss." Tony replied automatically, earning him a headslap. _Yeah, this is the real Gibbs._ Tony grinned.

"Course it's the real me. Who else would it be, bozo?" Gibbs replied, looking around. _That's my desk, but what's on it? And what's on Tony's desk?_

"I haven't checked all that out yet, Boss. You wanna check your desk and see what's there? I'll look over here. Oh, cool! That's a map of ..."

"In silence, DiNozzo." Tony saw Gibbs wander slowly over to his desk. _Oh, Shannon._ The pain in Gibbs' ... voice? ... shocked Tony.

"You alright, Boss?" _I didn't realize it still hurt so much. I wouldn't ..._ He looked at his bulletin board, covered with all sorts of names and connections. Yeah, this was his place. He sat down in the chair, rummaging through the stuff. _Oh, god. Paula. Kate. Wendy. Danny. Jeanne..._ Little pieces of their lives together were strewn in the drawer. He dug deeper, needing to know. _Dad. Mom._ A picture of him with his mother that he never remembered seeing -- or even that anybody else was there to take it -- was stuck in the very bottom of the drawer. He could nearly feel his heart bleed and he slammed the drawer shut, crossing his arms across his body to try to protect himself from the pain.

"Tony?" Gibbs looked up from his desk, eyes worried. "You alright?" _I had no clue. That's a lot of pain. And **how the hell** do I know that?_ Gibbs frowned.

"I was wondering that myself. Yeah, Boss. That stuff runs pretty deep. Reminds me of my failures." _I should have ... I could have ..._ It was a familiar song, and it was often on repeat in the deepest places in his brain. He was pretty good at keeping it buried, but looking that deep in the drawer had brought it all out. There were enough reminders in that damn drawer... He ran a hand through his hair.

"I didn't say anything for you to respond to. Just your name." _Thought a buncha other stuff, but surely he's not catching that, is he?_ Tony blinked, and looked up, meeting his boss in the eye.

"Yeah, Boss. I'm hearing that." That sent him into overdrive. _How the hell am I hearing Gibbs' thoughts? Okay. It follows that he's hearing mine. What show/movie/plot do I know ... reminds me of that time in ..._ "It's kind of like Freaky Friday, except not."

"It's nothing like Freaky Friday, Tony." Tony blinked in surprise again. "Wife made me watch it. Said I looked like the guy in it. I didn't see the resemblance." He frowned.

"Oh, you so do, Boss. Mark Harmon. He's a good looking man, if I do say so myself. He's also in Reasonable Doubt, and also one of the soaps, I think..." His mind pulled up a video clip. "St. Elsewhere. Yeah. Of course, he's been in other things, but you know. That's what he's famous for. You could be his twin, really."

"Hmmph." Gibbs broke their gaze, and turned his head to look at the pictures on the desk. _Tony's failures are deep in his drawer. Mine are all up here for me to see. Why is that?_

Tony couldn't help the snort. "That's easy, Boss, if you don't mind me saying so. I bury my troubles. You stay on target like a bloodhound after a mark. So, you put the reminders right where God and everybody can see them." _I wonder if that's personality, Marine training, sniper stuff, or something completely different?_

"Probably a bit of all three. This is really startin' to ..." _Freak me out/worry me/Hinky as **hell** /private/secret/safe/no rules explain/how?..._

Tony stood up, walking over to Gibbs, and wrapped his arms around the man, reveling in the simplicity of another human's touch. "Look, Boss, I, I really don't get what's going on either. I'm -- I'm a little freaked out here," _Stop lying to him, Tony, you're just waiting to make sure it's not a dream, **then** you'll have your major freakout_... "but we'll figure it out..." _or learn to deal with it, and grow up all fucked up all over again_ ... "and move on."

By this point, Gibbs had snorted a couple times, but he turned himself in Tony's embrace and taken control of the connection, wrapping his arms around the other man tightly, enveloping him again. He buried his head in Tony's shoulder, then snorted again. "You lie a lot, don't you?" _I bet he lies every damn day. Not painful ones, or at least until they blow up in his face...know how that goes..._

"Yeah, I really do. That sucks that you can hear that." _Last person in the world I want knowing my true thoughts._

"Why?" _Why? You don't want me to know you?_ Gibbs tensed a little in Tony's arms.

"It's how I was raised, and how I survived in the PDs. Undercover work. You lie all the fucking time. About who you are, about what you want... it was just too easy to do. I'd been doing it for years, so I just kept on." _NO, it's not that, Jethro. It's not that at all. I don't want you to know/understand/see the pain/be ashamed/walk away..._ "Heh..." He broke free from the embrace, and started pacing. "I don't like who I am. Not the real me." _So, I hide and lie. It's worked._

"Until now." _I like the you I know. And I'm not talking about the fratboy/cop/moviebuff/playboy._

"Until now." Tony turned, stopped pacing and looked directly at Jethro, catching his eye. _What the fuck is left?_


	4. Chapter 4

Abby sat outside the isolation unit gazing into the blue room, looking at her boys. _I don't know how Kate did it. I really don't._ Her fingers twitched, expressing their own worries, slipping back into her native tongue even when no one could see. She wished Gibbs would wake up so she could ask him how he was. And everything was so hinky. So very hinky. She hated that. She'd sent off a sample of the powder, and had nothing more to do until the call came back from them. She had no clue what she was dealing with. She still had some to test, but until she got the all-clear that it wouldn't kill anyone or put anybody else in isolation, she was stuck.

She sighed again, lowering her hands to smooth out her skirt. Chewing on her lip, she tried to think of any weird things she'd heard that made people act like this. It didn't make any sense at all. _What kind of chemical agent would make two people have to touch like that?_

The chair beside her squeaked, and Abby turned to see who had sat down beside her. "Hey, Duck." She gestured with her hands -- a proto-sign that meant 'those ones there ... the ones I'm talking about'-- and sighed. "No change."

"I can see that, Abigail. Have you eaten today?" Ducky looked her up and down with the practiced eye of the physician and pseudo-father.

"Not hungry, Duckman." She crossed her arms, shifting in her seat to straighten up a little, preparing to argue with the ME.

"Oh, you children are all the same. You emulate your boss entirely too well. You must eat, Abigail. At some point. I will not make an issue of it yet, but you will eat something this afternoon, or I shall insist upon it, in the name of good medical care. Do I make myself clear?" Ducky looked at her over his glasses, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, sir." Abby saluted him, and grinned. "Have we heard anything back from the CDC?" Her fingers began twitching again, tapping against her thumbtips in a beat that came from her music... or maybe the music came from it... she was never sure.

"No, Abigail." Ducky sounded tired. "I would have told you straightaway. I am perplexed. I have never seen anything like this. It reminds me of... Well, that's just it. I can't think of a single experience that has been like this. Disconcerting, to say the least."

"Hinky is what it is, Ducky." She nodded sagely, the rest of her calm while her fingers played their own tune.

"Yes, quite." Ducky chuckled. "You, my dear, are a treat. How are you holding up?" He gazed at her for a long moment, keeping her eyes, asking her seriously how she was.

"I'm worried, Ducky. This isn't like them. Even when Tony was here before ... and that's scary, because none of us wanted him back here for any reason, not to mention that Gibbs shouldn't be under there at all... wasn't a coma after that explosion enough... when Tony was here before, it was so scary, but he was making jokes. Now we don't know what's wrong and he's not talking, not comparing it to a movie. Gibbs isn't growling at him, isn't telling us what to do, running around like a mad bear and ..." She paused to breathe, and then grabbed Ducky, burying her face in his shoulder. "I'm scared, Ducky." She winced at the sound of her voice. _You sound so small and helpless. You weren't ever going to be that again._ "Will they be okay?"

"I certainly hope so, Abigail." Ducky wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, and for a moment she could let the worries slide away.

* * *

 

... _What the fuck is left?_ Tony's words / thoughts / whatever rattled inside Jethro's mind. He sighed, and looked over at the pictures. There was a huge picture of Shannon and Kelly right there in front of him, and beside it another huge picture of Mike, Kate, Jenny, Pacci, Paula, Macy... several other agents he'd lost. Another picture held some of his comrades from his unit. The last picture was big, but not as big as the one of his girls. _Mom._ He knew Tony would hear the word, but didn't care. On the other side of the desk were other pictures. Boone. Ari. That damn ship Jenny let explode. The Reynosas. That bastard Hernandez. A few other small pictures of cases he thought about from time to time.

Between them sat the team picture they took last year. Tony was goofing around, sticking his fingers up behind Tim's head. Ziva was looking over at Tony with undisguised amusement at his antics. Tim was rolling his eyes. Abby's arm was stretched out, ready to slug Tony. _He really is the heart. Abby is somewhat, but Tony really is the heart. He keeps us from going crazy._ Remembering that Tony could hear this, Jethro kept on going, changing the pronouns. _You are. You're the heart. You've trained Tim without him even knowing it. You keep me on track a lot more than I'll ever say. You listen to Ducky... don't deny it. I've heard him telling you stories. Ziva -- you've saved her ass, even when she wasn't sure you could be trusted. She's figured out where her bread's buttered now._ He couldn't help but be cynical about the former Mossad Officer. She still had an agenda, Jethro was sure of it. _Just hides it better._ He snorted. "You're gonna learn a lot about me, too, Tony. I might not -- twist and bend the truth around like you do, but I'm a bitter old man. Not been many that I've liked lately. Reason I don't have a helluva lot of friends." _Fornell, maybe Holly, couple others. That's it._ He ran a hand over his face.

"There isn't much we can do about this now, Tony. I want to catch the dirtbag who did this to us, and I want to figure out what this means. Dunno how that's gonna play out. Gonna find out a few things about each other we didn't know. Already have. Nothin' I've heard yet's made a difference. Know you, Tony." _I know you almost better than anyone else, I imagine._

"I don't know that you do, Boss." Tony was fiddling with some toy on his desk clearly nervous. "But there isn't much we can do about it. If this is reversible, then Rule 4 will apply all the way, both directions. Let me say that now." _There are some things I wanted to forget. Forever. But if you can't help but find them out... You've **got** to keep them to yourself... please. _

"Dunno why not, Tony. Done a few things in my life I'm not proud of. Come and bit me on the ass too, as you know." _Damn Reynosa, or whatever the hell her name was._ He looked over at the wall behind Tony's desk. "What's all that crap behind you, Tony?"

"Oh. Those are my info boards. Contacts here, well, the most important ones. I bet they change with what I'm thinking about..." Tony closed his eyes, and yes, the handwriting changed, as did the information. Gibbs patted around the desk, looking for his glasses. _It's a mental thing, Jethro. Like a dream. You don't need your goddamned glasses. Just imagine the thing closer to you. Or further away._ Tony rolled his eyes and gestured to the other board. "Undercover identities, and who they knew. Well, more importantly, who knew them." He turned to look at the desk, and Gibbs saw a monitor there. No. Too big for a monitor. _Oh. I like this part. That was a lot of fun._ "It's a television, Gibbs. I can show memories, or movies, or whatever. Kinda like the plasma, only not." He snorted. "My remote."

"Gotcha." He looked behind him, noticing the corkboard covered in Shannon's rules, the few he'd grabbed from Mike, and the ones he'd made up as he went along. "Made a new rule recently, Tony." He tapped the one on the board, wondering if Tony had 'enlarged' the thing, or whatever he did.

"'Sometimes you're wrong?' That's a good rule, Boss. A very mature attitude." _Too bad you/he couldn't have come up with that earlier. Would have saved us a lot of time and pain._ Tony flinched, expecting a headslap. "Please don't headslap me for what I'm thinking. That wouldn't be fair..."

"Try not to, but sometimes I slap when I see the problem comin'. Might have to cut out the slaps at all except for ..." He remembered Holly's words. _You like it rough? Role play?_

"What the hell, boss?" Tony looked up, eyes hooded in frustration. "This is gonna get really old. Really fast."

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" He leaned forward, setting his elbows on the stacks of papers filled with rules, procedures, case files, all his hard, concrete thoughts. _This is gonna get extremely old._ "Dunno 'bout you, but I'm gettin' tired of it just bein' us. Oughtta wake up and see what's goin' on with the case, and us."

"Yeah, probably ought to. Not sure how we'd do that, though." Tony looked around the room. _Maybe we have to climb out of the skylights like in Bond. Or stand our chairs at one end of the room and roll them down toward the end of the hall to show more of the area like that dumb game McGee plays. Maybe..._ Jethro cut off the man's imaginary ramblings with an amused bark.

"Elevator, dumbass!" Jethro rolled his eyes. _He's so funny. Wish I could laugh at his antics more often._

He worried about that thought escaping until he saw Tony looking up, a small, pleased smile on his face. They stood, 'grabbing their gear', so to speak, and headed to the elevator, and reality.

* * *

 

Tony opened his eyes again, gazing around the blue room. His chest didn't hurt so much now, but maybe that was becasue he'd gotten used to the arm across his body. He knew whose arm it was now. He was more coherent. The fact that his boss was draped around him was pretty clear evidence to him that maybe the stuff in his mind wasn't a dream. "You awake yet? Or did you flip the switch in the damn elevator?"

"Shaddup, Tony." Jethro's voice was deep and gruff, just like a morning before coffee, though he sounded amused. "Ugh. Don't mention coffee unless you've got some for me." Jethro rolled a little, trying to get more comfortable.

"Sorry, Boss. Least they could do for us was get us a big enough bed." Tony rolled his eyes. "Not that I mind the closeness." He waggled his eyebrows. _I really don't. It's been a long time since I've had someone this close without strings. A **damn** long time. _ He sighed.

Gibbs lifted his hand, and whacked the back of Tony's head gently. _Yeah. I hear that. It's been a helluva long time for me, too._ He shifted, getting more comfortable. "Y' find the panic button?"

"Shutting up, Boss, thank you Boss." Tony's response was almost automatic, though there was a second's hesitation at the difference now. _Yeah? Thought you had a little somethin - somethin goin' on with Hollis?_ "I don't remember if there was one in here. Though it's been a few years."

"There isn't one, because when we have patients in here, we monitor them twenty-four seven. Surely you remember that much, Buckeye." Tony heard a familiar voice, and grinned.

"Oh, look boss. It's someone like you. He's a Wolverine. Except he just wore one on his shirt, not like you. You're the real thing. Howling at the moon and everything." That earned him another cuff to the head. "Yes, boss. Shutting up now." He couldn't control his grin though.

 _Fucked 'er for a few months, Tony. Nothin' really came of it. Didn't go very deep. Did a few fix-up jobs around the house, and she found the girls' tape, and played it... asked about the boat... couldn't handle it. So, ... she left._ Jethro sounded very matter of fact about the whole thing. _Kinda glad. She liked things ... a particular way, and I liked them a 'whole 'nuther way._

 _Ew. You aren't talking about sex, are you?_ Tony pulled a grimace at his thought. _That's just **wrong,** Boss. I don't need to hear about you doing horizontal mambo with her. _ He wasn't sure why it bugged him. Anyone else, he'd be the voyeur looking in.

 _You like to watch, Tony? That's new. Thought you'd be on the other side. Exposin' yourself to ..._ Jethro's body moved away from his, and Tony felt the connection they had slam shut, and an excruciating pain begain right between his eyebrows, radiating outward until every nerve was on fire.

"Stop! Stop! Please! It hurts like fucking hell! Stop!" He wondered where the screams were coming from, until he recognized they were his own. Gibbs was groaning pretty deeply, too. He thought he heard someone say something about fingers, and he held one out, making sure it was his middle finger. They were causing him pain, after all. He felt the smallest of touches on his skin from another finger. The pain stopped immediately. "God, Brad. Do not do that again. I swear. I will fucking kill you."

"I'm sorry, Tony, we had to see what the effect was." Brad sounded sincerely sorry, but mentally, Tony was still cursing him violently, fluently, in all the languages he knew. Gibbs was doing the same, the Russian grating sharply with the French he used. Happily, though, Gibbs plastered himself against Tony's side again.

"Could've used a damn warning." Jethro groused, his voice rough.

"I wanted an accurate understanding of the level of pain. I wanted to be sure it was real." Brad looked down at his chart, refusing to meet Tony's eyes.

"Real?" Tony sat up, making sure to keep his leg entwined with Jethro's. He snarled at Brad. "Real? You wanted to see how we'd react when you ripped us apart? Fuck that, Pitt. You knew there was some sort of reaction, or you wouldn't have two grown men with no sexual or familial relationship in a single bed. You'd have us separate. So, something's not right. You knew that. And you pull that shit?" Tony opened his mouth to say more, but felt Jethro's hand rubbing his arm, soothing him.

 _Tone. Settle. It'll be okay. I'm sorry. Don't want you hurt. Can't see any of you hurt. We'll figure it out. New for them. Cut them some slack..._ Jethro laid his head down on Tony's shoulder, and Tony sighed.

 _Sorry, Jethro. Just hurt so damn much. Didn't make any sense. Didn't. Can't move away from you, can't escape. You'll see..._ Tony closed his eyes, laying his own head against the plexiglass wall, banging it a couple times. _Not because of you. You just really shouldn't see..._

 _S'alright, Tone. Shhh..._ Jethro's mind kept soothing him, almost automatically, like he was a small child. _Where I learned it. You want Pitt to stay on this, or we find someone else? Hundred docs in this place, Tone. If you can't work with him, we'll find one you can..._

Now it was Tony's turn to silence the other man. _Naw. Brad's good. I just would rather have been warned. You know I'm a sissy about pain. I don't show it for the big stuff, because 'DiNozzos don't cry'_ ... He noticed there was an echo as he thought that, as though it were an edict from on high that he were repeating. Perhaps it was. He wasn't going to think about why that was now. _Besides, Brad can take my crap. Some of these others wouldn't. I'm sorry. I'll try to be ..._

"Shhh." This time, Jethro spoke out loud, or whispered into his ear, then continued in his thoughts. _Shh, Tony. Nothin' t' worry about. Nothin' I'd learn'd make me less proud of you._ He sighed. "Doc, what's goin' on?" _Gonna have t' tell him about this shit, Tone. He's not gonna believe it, but we'll find a way to prove it to him._

"I have no clue, Gibbs. I've never seen anything like this, and the CDC has yet to get back to us. They're having to run a few more tests than usual. We don't know what the hell it was, or what the effects were. That's the other reason I wanted to try to separate you. I don't know if this is something you're passing back and forth, or if it's something that hit once and was done, or what the effects were." He ran his hand over his masked face, much like Gibbs' own frustrated gesture. "What can you tell me about this? Any strange symptoms other than the inability to be out of contact for more than two point three seconds?"

"Could say that. You're not gonna believe it, but yeah." _You're the one with the silver tongue, Tony. You wanna try to explain this shit?_ Tony laughed outright at Jethro, causing Brad to look over at him.

"Well, there's part of it, I guess. Brad. This is ... as hinky as hell." He sounded so sheepish after having screamed at the doctor like that. _He's not gonna believe me, Boss. I'm a liar. We both know it._ "We, uh," he paused, running the hand not around Jethro's shoulder across his neck in a nervous gesture. "We, uh, we're sharing thoughts. And we sort of woke up before in this place. It was probably a mental construct. You know that really weird movie 'Inception'?" Tony's mind ran through the scenes, trying to connect what he was trying to say to the movie. He knew it fit. _There._ "Well, it's kinda like that. We were in a shared space, sort of. It was the bullpen back at the Navy Yard, but it was just our desks. Mine and his. Not even McGoodbar's or Zeee-vahs. It was all squished together and dark. Though the skylights still glared on my screen." That did earn him a gentle headslap.

 _Back on track, Tony. Dunno why you hate those skylights. I like 'em._

"Right. Well, we can talk there, and even now, I can hear what he's thinking, and he can hear my thought processes. I don't understand what kind of chemical could do this, but I've never heard or seen anything. Maybe McGeek might've seen something in all that science fiction double feature stuff, but ... I haven't watched a lot of sci-fi." Tony closed his mouth abruptly. _I don't know what else to say or how to prove it. You got any ideas, Boss?_

 _My suggestions include things we can't do right now. Like one of us in one room, one in the other. Can't be apart from you..._ Jethro grimaced. _How we gonna piss?_

Tony laughed. "That's your worry? Your big worry..." He grinned. _Your big worry in all of this is sharin' a peepot?_ He shook his head. _I can put a finger on your neck and look away. I can put a hand on your arm and share your urinal. I can..._

"Get the idea, DiNozzo." Jethro growled. _Wasn't thinkin' just about that. Well, then I was. But thinkin' about jerkin' off, fuckin' a woman, ... Can't see that happenin'._

Tony grimaced. "Alright. You got me there." He sighed. _I love sex. I don't go long without it. **Fuck.** _ He slammed his head back again.

"Okay, I don't think I need proof, but you're right. I've never even _heard_ of something like that. I have no clue how to treat you. I'm not sure anyone does. This _has_ to be some experimental thing. Wow. You're going to make me famous again, Tony." Brad tried to joke, but his eyes were worried. "There is an upside to this. I can ask him if you're hurting, Tony." He grinned, sharp and feral, visible behind the blue mask. "And vice versa. Now. Anything we can get you?"

"Coffee." Tony jerked his free hand toward the man snuggled against him.

Almost simultaneously, Jethro ground out, "Pizza." He cuffed Tony on the back of the head.

"Wow. " Brad looked between them. "Just wow."

"Also wanna see the team. Don't wanna talk t' Vance just yet, not til we know more, but Tim and Abbs'll worry." Jethro slid his hand back down beside him, resting it comfortably on Tony's thigh. Something in him warmed happily at the feeling, and Jethro snorted. "Down, boy."

"Aww, Gibbs, you're no fun." Tony jibed, but the warmth in his chest didn't abate. _Noticed you didn't mention Zi-VER._

 _She wouldn't worry. Well, maybe a little about her job, and some about how much you'll whine about the pain, but ..._ Jethro shrugged his outside shoulder. _Mossad doesn't breed worry warts. If they do, they die young._

"Yeah." Tony sounded thoughtful. "It'd be good to see the team. Don't want to see the Toothpick, though." He shifted a little. "Could we figure out a different way to sit, Boss? My leg's falln' asleep." He chewed on his lip. _Like maybe you on my other side? Or sitting between me? We could scoot our legs together, and you could rest on my back ... you know they call those pillows 'husbands'? That'd be why._

"What?" Tony looked over to see the confusion on Jethro's face. "We really need a bigger bed. You really don't have a bigger one here?" _Could lash a couple together with zip ties on the edges. Then, I could curl up around you properly._ Another frisson of warmth shot through Tony. It had nothing to do with sex, though. _Gonna need to figure out how to move together, though. Gonna go stir crazy in the damn bed._

"Yeah, me too." Tony nodded. "Can we stand up and move around if we keep our hands together or something, Brad?" Tony looked up hopefully at his doctor. Dr. Pitt didn't usually take on normal patients, but with the complications from his lungs, and if he were honest with himself, possibly a little guilt over hurting his knee, he kept in the loop with Ducky, even checking on Tony from time to time himself.

"I don't see why not. Maybe we can even get you some shorts and muscle shirts or something. I want a lot of skin exposed, just in case the cloth is a problem, but I want you to be covered. You really don't need the gowns, especially if you're going to be up and around." He frowned. "Would you mind if I had someone go over to your houses and pick those things up?"

"Yeah. That'd be okay. Abby knows where all my stuff is." Tony nodded, reaching down to grab Jethro's hand. "Gonna move now, Boss." He snorted.

"Alright. Yeah, send Duck to my place. He'll figure it out." Jethro tried to roll off him enough for him to free his leg without releasing their hands. It took a little bit of work and some fancy moves -- especially with the arms being stuck with IVs -- but they did it.

"Here." Tony moved over close to Jethro, standing near enough that their legs brushed. He carefully set his bare foot right next to Jethro's, making sure that he felt the warmth of the other's skin, then released his hand. He stretched his arms in the air, rolled his neck, and then slowly lowered his torso down in a move that stretched his spine. "Ohhhh, much better. You need to do something?"

"Naw, I'm fine. Hey, Pitt? You got a problem with usin' zip ties t' put two beds together?" Jethro pushed his point.

"That might work. These beds are a slightly different type than the ones from the regular rooms, so I wasn't sure about how to do that. But we could probably manage that." Brad nodded, turning to go do those things, as well as whatever all else he had to do.

"Thanks, Brad," Tony smiled at him. "Sorry about taking your head off."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Buckeye. Just remember who carries the needles." And with another sharp grin behind his mask, Brad was gone.

"You wanna just sit on the bed for a bit, Tone?" Jethro asked, patting the edge of the bed. "Easy enough t' keep touchin'." _Damn that hurt. Hurt worse than I remember the explosion hurtin'. S'like I was hurtin', but I was feelin' your hurt, too._

Tony winced. "Yeah, that'd work." _Might be why it was so strong This is so **hinky** , Boss. I can't believe it. _

Gibbs gave his affirmative grunt, and they sat down on the bed in sync, waiting for the rest of the team to return.


	5. Chapter 5

Gibbs sat beside his Senior Field Agent, and rested his hand on the other man's legs. "Hope they'll let us change before they spring the horde on us." He gave DiNozzo a half smile, and watched the other man's face change to a thoughtful expression, then a grin. Jethro flexed his fist. Pitt had figured they were doing well enough that he removed the IVs. He did clarify that he might have to put them back in after a while, but he didn't see the need to feed or hydrate them through a tube when their mouths seemed to work.

"Have to. None of them need to see your ass like that, Boss." Tony ducked, nearly avoiding the headslap. _I missed those, you know? You don't give them to me as often._

Jethro grunted, and set his arm back down on Tony's leg. _Don't need to as much. You're doin' well enough without 'em. Want you to be able to take over when I'm done. Can't if you're just seen as a childish brat..._

Tony snorted and leaned his head down to rest on the top of Gibbs'. He could see what Tony was thinking with the happy feelings. "Down boy." Tony repeated Jethro's words of earlier.

Jethro snorted. "C'mon. We oughtta probably face the other way, or cover with a blanket. They don't need to see _your_ ass either." They stood up, arranging themselves on the bed again, this time facing the door and covering themselves well with the sheet on the bed.

"Ah, my dear boys. How good to see you awake. You do know that you gave us quite a fright." Ducky strode in, handing each of them their go bags. He gazed speculatively at their position. "Still unable to separate?" He frowned. "I had hoped that was a passing symptom."

"Naw, Duck. Not passing. Now, can you step out for a sec and let us put these on?" Jethro gazed at Ducky, willing him not to push him on this point.

"Yes, Jethro. I shall give you two a few moments to properly attire yourselves. Be aware, gentlemen, that Abigail is in fine fettle today." Ducky stepped back out, and the two men groaned nearly simultaneously.

"Okay." Tony frowned. "Shorts first?" He snorted, trying to think how they were going to do this.

"Ya think? Or..." _Could I do my shirt and you/he could do your/his shorts. Haveta keep our feet together somehow?_ He frowned, knowing Tony had heard.

"We could try, Boss. I don't care about being all out there. Thought you might want to put your shorts on first, I dunno."

"It's not gonna matter, Tony. We're gonna have to do this every day, so findin' a way to do it..." _Why don't we touch foreheads and put our shorts on together, then we'll both do shirts. Sit real close for that._

"Let's try it." Gibbs could feel some sort of worry forming in Tony's mind, but he smiled a sad smile and grabbed his hand. "C'mon."

They had to time it pretty precisely, leaning up against the wall of the iso unit to make sure they stayed standing and touching, but they managed to get their shorts on. This time, Gibbs grabbed Tony's hand, twining his fingers through it like a lover, stroking the edge of his finger with his thumb. _Dunno why. Need t' reassure you that we're okay._ Consciously, he spoke the next part out loud. "C'mon, Tony. Come sit with me and we'll get our shirts on." He smiled, trying reassure the other man. _C'mon. We can do this. Well, you can. You beat the plague, after all._

Tony chuckled, looking down to their entwined hands. "Yeah. Let's get finished dressing, or Abby'll bouncce in here, and we'll never get our shirts on." _Wouldn't mind...ugh. Wouldn't mind ... No._ Gibbs heard Tony clamp down on a thought, and frowned as they moved back over to the bed. _And you're tough as nails, Boss. Survived exploding/amnesia/go away/leave._ Gibbs winced at the emotion-laden thought, but let it go for now.

 _What was that, Tony?_ He did want to know about his first thought, though. They sat carefully on the bed, legs smashed together, and looked at each other. Gibbs tilted his head a little. _Go ahead._ He hadn't intended to form the thought, nor to share it. _Is this getting deeper? How much deeper can it go?_ Tony blinked, looking a little startled, but carefully slid his shirt over his body. Something inside Gibbs ached at the loss of contact with the bare skin, but he barely noticed it, let alone acknowledged it.

When Tony finished sliding his shirt on, he quickly pulled his own over his head all the way, then pushed his outer arm through quickly. He took a little more time with the arm next to Tony, making sure not to hit the younger man. _My Tony,_ his mind reassured him. _My Tony. You know that?_ It came through in that same reassuring tone that the comforting sounds had earlier. He heard it come from the depths of his mind, reluctantly owned it, and sighed. _Don't have time for this right now. Gotta see the kids. Make sure they're okay. Then, we'll deal with this other stuff..._ He realized he was making a unilateral decision, and turned to face Tony, hand on his arm. "That okay? There's somethin' -- somethin'..." He growled. _Hate the talkin' crap. Wanna tell him/you, but don't even -- can't even put my finger on what it is. Don't want to make decisions for him/you without his/yours/our permission..._

"Gibbs." Tony's tone was a little sharper than he expected, but he figured it made sense with the rambling his mind was doing. He grabbed Gibbs' face, pulling it closer so that they were eye to eye. _I have no clue/whatthefuck/never heard, seen/no movie reference. So, yeah. Something's going on. We'll deal with it, okay? There is something going on, and I want to see what all is part of this. But in the meantime... wanna lean against me like I mentioned earlier? It'll let us touch a little more..._

And that sounded amazing to Gibbs. He smiled, and nodded, and they moved in their own rhythm, developed after ten long years of working together, anticipating each others' needs and movements in the field and in their investigations. Tony lay back on the bed, spread his legs wide, and Jethro seated himself between, pressing back against the other man. _Not uncomfortable, am I? Not smashin' anything -- important?_ His mind supplied several other colorful adjectives, and he was pretty sure they all got passed along as well.

Tony laughed heartily, wrapping his arms around Jethro, pulling him snug against his chest. _Naw, Boss, my bat and balls are fine._ The two of them snickered for a few moments before the isolation room door whooshed open, and there was their team, all decked out in scrubs and masks.

"I do not like this gear. It's extremely confining, and I cannot get to my knife." That was Ziva.

 _Bullshit._ Jethro's mind groused, and then, thwacked the younger man's shaking form. _She can get to at least one of her knives at all times. You and I both know this._ Even when there was a metal detector, Ziva managed to carry some sort of ceramic or plastic implement on her person. _Knew one gal would carry a garotte in her bra. As part of it. Unzip that thing, underwire out, and 'slice.' Pretty effective._

 _Yeah, I could see that. Now, shush._ Gibbs snorted. Tony's own mind was moving, connecting pieces and stretching out, gauging team members' health and moods with a frightening efficiency. Gibbs had to pull back a little mentally before his stomach started churning too much. _Oh, sorry, Boss._ The activity slowed a little, but the style did not change.

 _Naw, think I might have to get used to it. Just so different from mine._ Gibbs did his own assessment of the team, hoping to prove his point. He noticed all the little things, then pulled them together into one big picture.

 _Almost the opposite, Jethro. I see pictures and take them apart for pieces. You see pieces and put them together for pictures._ Tony grinned. The silence lasted only a moment until they heard their favorite bouncy lab girl stomping into the room -- somehow managing to keep her booted-like stride even in the slippers that came with the scrubs.

"Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs!!" She came over and wrapped her arms around them both, squeezing tightly, kissing their temples. Gibbs grinned. "Tony! Oh, Tony-bear!" She pushed their legs a little closer together and further to the other side of the bed so she had room to sit down. "I was so worried, guys. Just ask Ducky how worried I was. I saw you two on the ground at the warehouse, and ..."

Gibbs snarled. _She **what**? _ He voiced his thoughts, gazing over at his two junior agents and the Medical Examiner. "You _what_? You sent her into that warehouse? What if it wasn't cleared??"

"Boss, I cleared it first, we were all suited up, and she only went into the room after Ducky checked things over first. It was a lab, Boss. I needed her expertise to tell me what the machines did. I didn't want to move the damn things until they had cleared the substance, just in case there were more powder traps around." Tim stood tall, unashamed of his actions.

 _Good man, Tim._ Jethro grunted his acquiescence, and nodded. "Alright. Go on, Abby." He reached an arm around her, squeezing her a little.

 _You're such a marshmallow, Jet._ Tony's thought came slipping across, and then he felt the horror follow, both at the comment and the nickname.

 _Tony. You can't control all of your thoughts. Let it be. And I don't mind._ He really didn't. No one had called him 'Jet' in a long time. There had been a couple military buddies who had shortened his name, especially when they got a glimpse of his quick temper. _And yeah, but I gotta keep the bastard image. Protects/won't hurt/never leave/I'll leave first/hurt/die..._ He hated when his mind did that, but it happened a lot. And with the trauma of the situation, he figured it'd happen more.

 _Don't worry, Jet. I gotcha._ Now Tony was the one soothing, his hands running along Jethro's side, calming him. They looked over at Abby who seemed not to have noticed their lapse, and Tony snorted. "Abby, slow down. We're kinda tired, and there's a lot of hinky stuff going on. So, now, what did you say?"

Abby glared at him for making her repeat it, but she recounted finding them in the warehouse and Ducky's description of what had happened when they tried to pull them apart. She finished her tale, and then gazed at the two of them. "So, tell us about the hinkyness?" She narrowed her eyes, as if she could pick out what had changed with the two senior-most agents on her favorite team.

 _And also, I can kill you with my brain_ , Tony's mind helpfully supplied, and Jethro couldn't hold in the snort.

 _Which movie's that from, Tony?_ The question slid through his mind and across before he could stop it or regret it.

 _Not a movie Boss. Firefly. Sci-fi show. One of the few I like. I like it cuz they're space cowboys who speak Chinese as a second language. You'd like it, I think_. Tony slid his arm around to the front of Gibbs, grabbing the man's hand and playing with it idly. Gibbs knew it was a coping mechanism: finding something nearby and manipulating it, but it looked a lot different from the outside.

"Ooohh. Are you two _together_ now? Because that would be totally hot!" Abby put her hands up to her mouth as though she'd said something she didn't intend to say, or had forgotten about the audience.

"Well, ... not exactly, Abs." Gibbs began, and then felt this pain start inside himself and echo through their connection. _We'll have to see what the hell that was, but ..._ He shifted a little, turning to rest his head against Tony's pecs. "We are ... connected at some very basic levels. I'm not even sure how this happened."

"Well, we aren't either, and neither is the CDC. All they know is that it's inert and that it must've been a one-shot thing, Gibbs. You may be the only people in the world in this situation. They're calling in USAMRIID. You know? The US Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases. They might have more of an idea. They deal with some other kinds of stuff too. And would know if someone had targeted you, or if it was totally random, or if they even were aware..." She frowned. "Well, anyway. I was supposed to tell all that to Brad so that we could come in here without the masks, but I forgot. I wanted to talk to _you._ "

"That would have been nice to know beforehand, yes, Abby." Brad's droll reply passed through the doors. "You want to take all that gear off? We will probably keep you for another couple of days to see what the other effects are, but I think you should be okay to take the scrubs off." After removing his own mask, he stepped into the room. "Still having those other effects?" He frowned at them.

"Yeah. Actually, that part's gettin' more intense." Gibbs reached up to rub his nose, a nervous movement he'd seen Tony do more than himself.

"More intense? In what way?" The doctor sounded slightly worried.

"Oh, like an onion, Brad. Before, it was skin things. The longer we're together, the layers are getting peeled back. I don't know what the purpose would be, but there seems to be some sort of process going on, and it's unnerving." Gibbs could _feel_ the unease radiating from Tony, not just through his thoughts, but from the tension in his muscles.

Ducky made himself known again, having merely untied the mask. "What kind of side effects, Dr. Pitt?" He looked from the young doctor over to the men on the bed and Jethro knew he was going to push this. So, he took control.

"Duck. Ask me a question only Tony knows the answer to." Jethro felt the conflicting emotions in Tony's mind. He amended the request. "Something that wouldn't embarrass him to the team, or break HIPPA." _Better?_ He gave that small smile, leaving a hand on Tony's bare thigh, turning to look at the younger man.

 _Much. Interested to see what he comes up with._ Several different possibilites sprouted inside the man's mind, and damn if he didn't follow all of them, branching each one out further. Jethro rubbed at his temple.

"What actor did you say I looked like when we met, Anthony?" Ducky asked Tony but looked squarely at Jethro.

 _Oh, that's so easy. I couldn't remember his name, but it was the guy who played Ilya Kuryakin._ At Jethro's confusion, Tony continued, pouring almost all of his information about the movie into his head at once. There were pictures, scene snippets, quotes, the year, the background...

"Tony!" Gibbs held up a hand to rub his forehead. "Don't do that. Need a bit 'a time t' process all that crap. Dump like that again, and you'll feel it." He turned to see the team staring at him in shock. "Didn't remember the man's name, but he played Ilya Kuryakin. Somethin' about Uncles."

"No, Boss..." Tony started, but Gibbs cut him off.

"Good enough, isn't it?" He gazed at Ducky.

"Oh, my goodness. You mean to say that you are telepathically linked, and that there is some sort of connection to proximity?" Jethro nodded, still stroking his forehead.

"Excellently put, Doctor Mallard. Do you mind if I borrow your phrasing for the report?" Brad frowned, looking at Jethro worriedly. "Are you okay, Gibbs?"

"Yeah, Tony just got a little excited and dumped a whole buncha crap right into my head. Kinda like eatin' too much ice cream." He exhaled slowly.

"Brain Freeze." Abby piped up knowingly.

"What? Why would you want to freeze someone's brain? I suppose it would help for studying it later..." Ziva sounded confused.

"Nevermind, ninja-chick," Abby replied. "I'll explain it later." She patted Ziva's arm. "So, you're connected to each other's minds?" Abby returned to the point. "That's extremely hinky, guys. What happens if you don't touch?"

"Imagine burns on the inside of your head, Abby. Third degree burns. Then, they travel down through your limbs, and just keep getting worse." Tony shuddered, and Gibbs stroked his leg to calm him again.

"Yup. Sounds about right." He nodded his agreement to Tony's assessment.

"Well, that kind of pain response has been known to cause a seizure-like state in some situations. Especially if it is centered at some point in the brain and radiating outward. I cannot imagine what kind of pain would cause that, but it must have been extreme." Ducky gazed over at Brad, and the two were holding a silent 'doctors only' conversation with their looks.

"Well, duh, Duck." Gibbs replied, only half-snarkily. "Taught Tony a few phrases in Russian, or woulda if he'd not been tryin' t' teach me French." He realized how that sounded, and sighed. _This is why I don't talk much. So much crap comes out, and they take it all the wrong way, and then start sayin'..._

 _They do that anyway. The trick is to realize that, and anticipate it. Either find the words that can't be polluted, or twisted -- good luck there -- or just work with it. Smile and nod. Hide behind it. Use it for a shield._ There was a vehemence in Tony's thoughts that worried Jethro, but he wasn't sure how to handle it.

 _Yeah._ He understood that process, and was coming to see it even more clearly the longer he was connected to Tony. "So, Pitt, you wanna see about gettin' us a different room? Maybe a bigger bed?" He heard the snorts around him, and rolled his eyes. "Don't want my brain burnin' from the inside out. So I'm gonna keep at least a little bit of skin touchin' Tony while we figure out what's goin' on. You got a problem with that? Abs? McGee? David?" He glared at each of them in turn.

 _That works, too._ Tony jibed happily. Gibbs itched to headslap him.

* * *

 

It didn't take them long to find an empty room, a bigger bed, and a quiet area for them to talk things through. Brad was nearly hovering over them, worried about symptoms he hadn't noticed yet. "You have to tell me if anything changes, Buck. Anything at all..." Somewhere along the way, 'Buckeye' got shortened to 'Buck', and Wolverine got shorted to 'Wolf.' It didn't make a lot of sense, but it seemed to work.

"Yeah, yeah. I understand. Mind if I tell Ducky when he's here and he can tell you?" Tony waved off Brad's concern.

Brad nodded, and glanced around. "Can you guys manage alright? I've got to go do my rounds." He gazed over at the pair for a long moment.

"Gettin' kinda hungry, Brad. Mind if we take care a' our own food?" _Hospital food sucks. Tastes like cardboard covered in piss 'n' shit._

Tony choked. "You don't say." He couldn't hold back the laugh. _But you're dammed right._ That only made him laugh more. The others looked on in confusion, and in Abby's case, undisguised interest. Tony waved it off, and chuckled a couple more times before settling in to lay against Jethro again.

"I don't see why not. I'll let the floor nurse know. That'll save them a little work." Tony nodded, and Brad waved before stepping out to get back to his work.

"Okay, guys, this brings up a point. We're still getting used to this..." He waved a hand between the two of them which Jethro caught and captured within his own. "So, we're bound to act a little -- unusual." He caught the various smirks, and shook his head. "I mean, even for us." _They've got a point, Boss. We're not exactly Ozzie and Harriet._

Now it was Jethro's turn to laugh, though it was a short, quiet huff of laughter that left a smile on their faces.

"What I'm trying to say is that we're not going to explain everything. And I can't -- I can't betray secrets, and I'm pretty sure he won't either..." A quick cuff to the back of the head led him to change his words. "He won't betray my secrets. But, this thing..." He stroked his thumb along Jethro's hand, considering. "There _are_ no secrets between us. None. Every thought that starts to germinate, it gets to a certain point, it slides across the really thin barrier between us. And," he sighed, looking directly at Ducky as he said this. "As I said earlier, that point keeps getting less and less as time goes on. I don't know what endgame is. I want to know what endgame is. What did the designer intend when he made this shit? Is it working according to plan, or is it so whacked out nobody will ever know? That's one big question." _You want me to keep going?_

Jethro made a motion, gesturing for him to go ahead. _Doin' fine. I'll butt in when I need to. Always have, haven't I?_

Tony nodded, and continued. "Yeah. So, the second big question is, where the hell is Varelli? And why can't we find him? Where did he learn this stuff, if it was him, and where did he get the ingredients?" He shifted a little, nervous energy. "And, here's something I never thought of, Boss, but it's just coming to me." He turned and saw Jethro's face tighten as he caught the thought. "Yeah. Exactly. If this exists, can it be used for terrorism? Each terrorist binds himself to an official. If there's a way to get this to work without the need for the touch, but keeping the mental link, he'd know every fucking thing the other guy knew, and there'd be no escape."

"But it wasn't designed by terrorists, Tony. It was designed by someone who has ties to the Mafia." Ziva frowned.

"Oh, like that makes it any better. Just change it to police chiefs, mayors, senators, congressmen..." Tony shuddered. "Invisible, unbeatable corruption. He'd know the moment a new law sprouted in the other guy's mind. He'd know the way around it, and ..." Tony felt the fear coming, and had to cut off his words.

Jethro must have felt it too, because he shifted them, sitting them up to sit next to each other on the edge of the bed, and wrapped his arm around Tony's shoulders. "Tone. We're gonna catch this bastard. And we're gonna nail his ass to the wall. Then, we'll know what this looks like, smells like... we'll burn every last molecule of it, burn the notes, and scramble the guy's head so he can't see straight, let alone think this through. If we have to. This won't get out there. We'll make sure of it."

Tony nodded, not completely mollified. There was still the fact that it had hit _them._ _Boss..._ Tony's mind started to work. _Need to do this for a while. Can you find a way to block it?_

"I dunno, DiNozzo, I hadn't gotten that far..." Jethro spoke out loud, and Tony sighed. He would rather have done this without the audience, but needs must. "Got any ideas for that?" He sighed, and turned toward the team, hoping to brainstorm with them. "You got any ideas on how we could try t' have a little privacy? Tony's brain's not like mine at all, and it makes me kinda queasy when he thinks too much." They looked surprised at that.

Tim spoke up first. "You could create a firewall." He gazed over at Abby. You were talking about the 'Brain Freeze' earlier, too. It could choke the information a bit, make it go through at a more decent speed for you?"

"A wall of fire?" Jethro was understandably confused. _Could put a fire between us, but I don't want to burn you. Already had that happen a little, and I didn't like it._ Their minds both came up with the image anyway, setting a dual wall of fire between their desks. _Dunno how I'm supposed to choke information through that, though._

"I think it's a computer thing, Boss." Tony pulled his side of the flames down, and Jethro did the same.

"Yeah, it's a program or device that blocks certain ports on your computer's network. It prevents unwanted information from escaping or entering and controls the flow of information from ..." It only took a little glare from the men on the bed to silence Tim. "Right. Maybe a firewall wouldn't work for you."

"What do you see in that space?" Abby asked, and they all looked over at her. "What? I mean, you said you have this space. What kind of space?" She grinned, and Tony could just see the lascivious ideas bouncing around inside her head. Their Abby was no blushing virgin.

"Not _that_ kinda space for sure." Jethro agreed with his assessment of Abby's look. "It's just me and Tony in the Bullpen."

"Oh. Realspace. See, if it were my head, it'd be a virtual space, laid out like a computer video game, complete with port settings and..." Tim wasn't close enough to headslap, so Jethro just growled softly. "Right, Boss, shutting up, Boss."

Ziva frowned. "When we lived in a very small home, my mother used to set up a -- a division?" She was sure that was the wrong word, Tony thought.

He was also pretty sure what she was trying to get at. "A divider?" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Okay. Gimme a moment, Boss. I'll put up a privacy screen so my weird mind doesn't give you headaches." He visualized the Bullpen as they saw it, and set up a fine Oriental divider between them. He let his mind go slowly down a few tracks, feeling the thoughts branch from one point to the next. "That any better?" He gazed over at his Boss to see how he fared.

"Yeah, Tony, that's better. Do your thinkin', and then take it down though." _I can still feel it somewhat. Not as painful, but ... somethin' aches when I can't get past the barrier._

 _Sounds like there's a failsafe, then, Boss._ Tony frowned, and looked around. "Somebody should be taking notes on this, shouldn't they? If for no other reason than to give to Brad."

"Got it." Tim pulled out his little handheld phone thingy, and started writing with the stylus.

"Good. It works sort of. It blocks the feeling, but it also creates a wierd pull for me to pull it down." He let his mind run free, considering all the possibilities that he could think of at the moment. Connections formed, and his mind traveled down all of them, trying to make a little sense of it. He could feel Jethro on the other side of the divider doing the same thing, except it was just one single intense thought after another. After about five minutes, he felt the burning starting between his eyes, though much less painful than not touching had been. He finished what he could, made the mental 'report' and pulled the divider down. Immediately, he wished he'd have waited. The force of Jethro's single line of thought hit him like a freight train and he winced. _Ouch. Dammit. Looks like that goes both ways, then._ He sighed. "Sorry, Boss. I'll give you more warning next time." He turned to McGee. "McGoogle, it took about five minutes for the pain to start setting in. Right? About 5?" He looked over at the team who nodded their assent.

He shifted a little more, pressing back against Jethro's chest, and closed his eyes. "So, what do we have on Varelli? Anything new?"

"Not really. We ..." Tim started, but Jethro cut him off.

"What we gonna do about food?" Tony wondered about the interruption, then realized his stomach was starting to growl.

"Pretty neat trick, there, Boss." Tony grinned, stroking the other man's arms.

"Could feel it comin'." Jethro shrugged it off. _'Sides. I'm hungry myself._

"Would you all mind if we included Mister Palmer in this discussion? He could run and go get us some food and we could continue after our repast." Ducky gzed over at Jethro.

"Be fine with me, Duck." Jethro replied. _You alright with that? Kinda wanna tell Jack, too. 'Specially if this thing isn't temporary. You're a part of my life now, Tone._

Tony froze, then turned his body, keeping his hold on Jethro's hand as he was getting used to doing when he wanted to move without being careful of skin touching. _Really?_ He frowned, unsure of what to make of the thought. _Probably because you/he have/has to. If it weren't absolutely necessary..._ He was stopped mid-thought by a ringing slap to the back of the head. "Owww! Thought you weren't gonna do that for the internal stuff, Boss?"

Jethro shrugged. "Not doin' it for the snappy stuff, or idiotic stuff. But this shit -- this shit's gonna stop right about now. You got me?" He gazed directly into Tony's eyes, and Tony could see his blue eyes narrow in annoyance and anger. _You cut that self-deprecating shit out. I have no clue what happened before to make you hate yourself so much, but it stops now. Got it?_ His mental volley was strong and full of deep emotions. _Been there, Tone. Almost ate a gun..._ It wasn't something the other man intended to share, Tony could tell. But they couldn't avoid it now.

"On it Boss." Tony exhaled, and shifted around again to lay against Jethro.

 _Good. Now answer my damn question._ Jethro growled at him, though it was light annoyance. _You okay with Palmer knowin'? S' your shit, too._ Tony snorted. Jethro's mind had a propensity to swear pretty regularly. Not that he minded.

He shrugged. _Black Lung/Palmer/Jimmy's part of the team. Besides, I'm hungry. Not pizza though..._ He laughed at his own thought. "Never thought I'd think that. But yeah. It's good." Tony tried to ignore the thought of Jethro 'almost eating a gun', but it rolled around in his head. _Glad you didn't_. There were a lot more different thoughts and emotions, but that was a good enough summary for the moment.

"Sounds like a plan, Duck." Jethro gazed over at the team, and Tony followed his gaze to see Abby with her hands across her mouth.

"It's so _hinky_ , boss, but it's kinda cool, too." Abby bounced a little more.

"Yeah, coulda been a lot worse. Tony and I are pretty close." He felt Jethro shrug, and felt the germination of appreciation to whoever watched over them that it was Tony and not someone else. _Fornell. Ugh. Could you imagine that? We'd kill each other within a week._

Tony snorted, and nodded. "Yeah. I don't think there's anybody else I'd do this well with." He grinned. "Sorry, Abs. Just how it is." Tony grinned. _Oh, god. That'd be like me and Slacks-sassy-ass/try-to-get-me-in-jail..._

Gibbs calmed him with a light squeeze, but his quiet huff of breath proved he was amused. _Yeah, that'd be about the same. Fornell's mentioned to me how lucky I am. To have an SFA like him/you._

Tony's eyes widened. _Really?_ He drew the word out.

 _In confidence._ Jethro sounded resigned and wary. _Can't bug him about it, Tone. Wasn't supposed to tell, but couldn't help it. Gonna be a lot of shit like that._

 _Both sides._ Tony agreed, and turned to look at the team. "So, yeah. Our little Gremlin can fetch our food. Not pizza, though." _Whaddya want, Jethro?_

 _That sounds good._ Tony felt a finger pointing at a thought forming in his own mind.

"That's kind of weird. He just ... pointed to a thought I was having." Tony shook his head, and watched Tim notate the 'symptom.' "Barbecue sound good with everyone?"

"As long as you make me a Kosher plate, please." Ziva had started observing Kosher again recently, hoping to fit in a little more with the Jewish community in DC.

Tony nodded, and gestured toward Ducky. "Call him?" He realized he was doing the talking again, but mentally checked, and heard no objection.

Ducky nodded and pulled out his phone, calling Jimmy and requesting that he bring the food. He held his hand over the phone microphone as he looked over at Tony and Gibbs. "The director is asking for an update."

"Give 'im one when he comes t' visit." Gibbs muttered. "Don't really want this out across the phones. Palmer's one thing..."

They all nodded, understanding. They had learned not to speak of very sensitive stuff over regular phone lines. "I do understand Jethro. I shall call him myself and let him know that he needs to be here for that discussion.”

 _Not looking forward to that, Boss. Need to keep my job._ His job was pretty much everything to him, and Tony despaired of losing it.

 _Not losin' your job on my watch, Tone._ Jethro's reply was quick and intense.

They made small talk until Jimmy arrived with the food.

 

 

* * *

 

The team ate their meal and returned to work, leaving Tony and Gibbs together. They got Brad's permission to walk around the hospital some, makng sure to keep their hands laced together. It wasn't that hard to keep in step. They got a few funny looks but brushed them off, realizing they'd have to get used to it anyway. After a while, they found themselves back in their room, sititng in the chairs, legs touching at the knees. Tony heard something first, and Gibbs concentrated for a moment. After a brief confusion, he heard what Tony did. Vance was talking on his telephone to someone, and he was getting closer. By mutual unspoken agreement, they stood, grasping hands, and climbed back up into the bed. Tony laid on his side against the wall, and Jethro pressed back into him. Tony reached between them, gently lifting their shirts until Jethro's bare back was flush against Tony's abdomen. That left their arms and legs free to settle into comfortable positions. By the time they got themselves all arranged, Vance had shown up.

He took one look at the way they were arranged, and his eyes narrowed. He chomped down on his everpresent toothpick, and sat down in one of the chairs. "Somebody wanna tell me why I'm not writin' the two of you up on insubordination and fraternization charges right now?" Jethro could feel Tony shivering behind him, and he rolled his head a little to brush more skin against Tony's in a gentling move.

It was Tony's turn to speak. "The yellow powder had some very unforeseen side effects. Neither Dr. Pitt nor Dr. Mallard have seen anything like this. And there is a very good reason we're still hospitalized and pressed together like flat salami." Tony held up a hand against Vance's protests. "Director, the easiest way to make this plain is to demonstrate it. I'm not going to demonstrate the painful part -- I'll explain that in a bit. However, the other part is easy to prove. Ask me something only Gibbs would know. Something that won't break security clearance if we talk about it out loud."

Jethro could see Leon's mind working quickly. "Alright. What did you say to me that day you stole my sandwich, Jethro?" He crossed his arms, clearly disbelieving this incredible story.

 _ **He** stole **my** sandwich, the bastard. I told him it'd serve him right if he got mayonaise on his fancy new blazer._ Jethro snorted, shaking his head.

"You stole _his_ sandwich, or at least that's what he says. He says he told you it would serve you right if you spilled mayonaise on your fancy new blazer." Tony repeated Jethro's thought out loud nearly verbatim, and Jethro watched as the toothpick dropped to the floor.

"Well, I'll be dammed. Never heard of such a thing." He ran his fingers over his lips in a thoughtful gesture. "Now what's this about pain?"

"Can't step away from him, Leon. Gotta have some part of skin touchin'. Maybe more the better. Still figurin' out what it all means. If we're not touchin' for about five minutes, it's like peelin' ductape from crotch hair. Except inside your head, and about twenty times stronger." Leon winced at the description, as did Tony.

 _God, Jet. Did you have to make it so descriptive?_ He shuddered again just at the thought, then lowered his forehead into Jethro's neck.

 _Oh, that feels damn good. Better than it should._ Jethro closed his eyes, just enjoying Tony's touch for a long, quiet moment until Vance cleared his throat.

"I'll put your team on cold cases until we get this figured out." Jethro started to say something, but Leon held up his hand, and Jethro waited to hear what the man had to say. "I'll let them keep workin' on this one, Gibbs." He gave a half-smile. "Anything you boys need?"

Jethro began to think, and he felt Tony doing the same. They both held up their hands to their temples, rubbing the pain away. _Guh. I've got to be able to think, Tony. This is getting ..._

 _Untennable._ Tony supplied the word, finishing his sentence. _I don't want to separate from you, but I want to be able to function independently. Not so mcuch the physical things -- like holding my own dick at the pisspot -- but all the other things._

Jethro nodded. "I don't know yet, Leon. We're still figuring out how to think." It was his turn to hold off Vance's question. "Tony's way of doin' things, even inside his head, is very different from mine." Leon gave an amused snort at that, and Jethro continued. "We gotta figure out how to do more than basic thinkin' without hurtin' each others' brains."

"I think I can kinda see that. It's like lettin' a woman move in. Gotta decide on the toothpaste and toilet paper issues." The Director nodded. "Let me know if there's somethin' you need. I assume Doctor Mallard will be kept up to speed?"

"Yeah, he and Pitt are mother-hennin' us again." Jethro nodded, and shifted his body a little. "Leon. Never intended t' ..."

"It's okay, Gibbs." Jethro noticed that he found it strange to be reassuring him. "It's not like the two of you chose to go in there and sniff the powder." He snorted.

"No, definitely not." Tony's voice took on a tone that meant he was quoting something. _Rainman, Boss. Dustin Hoffman._

Jethro vaguely remembered hearing about that movie.

"Alright then." Vance slapped his hands against his thighs, and stood up. "Call me if you need me, Gibbs."

"Will do, Leon." And the director walked out the door, leaving Tony and Jethro alone in their room.


	6. Chapter 6

Tobias Fornell sat at his desk, glaring at the report in his hand. "I can't see the connection, Ron. I mean, I think it's a perfectly good idea, but without the justification, I can't pass it along."

Ron stood in front of his desk, arms across his chest. "Yeah. I can't see it either, but it was worth a shot. Have you heard from the Dream Team?" Tobias knew that from the emphasis Agent Sacks put on the moniker, he knew he was referring to Jethro's team.

"Not yet. I'd never seen anything yet. But Jethro and DiNozzo are some of the strongest men I know. They'll come through this." Tobias wished he didn't sound like he was reassuring himself more than his team. "Do you have any other ideas?"

"Welll -- my other big idea was to try to find someone to go in. But DiNozzo's the best at that," Tobias noted smugly that his senior agent copied his Italian pronunciation of the NCIS agent's name, "but with him out of commission, we may just have to try to get him on ELINT alone."

"ELINT's sketchy, Ron. It's why I went over there in the first place. I was going to try to get McGee to help with that end. Come to find out, he'd already been helping himself to the little we already had." People in the business knew that Timothy McGee was one of the best Electronic Intelligence men around.

"You could still ask for his help, especially if he's wanting to find out who tapped his boss. They're as protective of him as beta wolves watching their alpha's ass, Tobias." Ron gave an evil grin, and leaned forward. "It might actually work to do that cooperation thing our bosses are always harping on."

Tobias snorted. "And you're not like a junkyard dog when I'm in deep? C'mon, Ron. Get real." He gave his own evil grin, and shook his head. "Yeah. Wouldn't they have a stroke if we suggested it?" They shared a look that said, 'that may not be that bad of a thing', and Tobias stood. "Alright. You sold me. Let me go bug the boss with this, and then we'll probably head over to the Navy Yard. You think you can keep the pissing contests to a minimum, Ron?"

"Yeah, I can. DiNozzo's not there. It'll be easy." Ron's eyes sparkled with amusement, and not for the first time, Tobais wished he'd have adopted Gibbs' habit of headslapping his minions.

Tobias rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket, slinging it back around his shoulders and sliding his arms through. "I'll be back. Gear up." He was pretty hopeful that the boss would absolutely love the idea.

* * *

 

Tim sat at his desk staring at the cold case file, the letters swimming before his eyes. It wasn't making any sense anymore. He couldn't connect the pieces like he needed to. _Dammit, Jim, I'm a programmer, not a miracle worker._ He snorted at his own thought, and returned to looking down at the page until he heard the elevator ding open. Fornell and Sacks strode through, stopping at his desk. "Hello, Agent Fornell, Agent Sacks. Gibbs isn't here. He and Tony are still in the hospital." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, wishing the two FBI men would just disappear. _This is all I need. Zee and I are stuck on cold cases, and we don't know how the hell to help the Boss and Tony._

"Hello. I'm from the government, and I'm here to help," Tim looked up to hear Sla -- _Dammit, Tony!_ \-- Agent Sacks' softly sarcastic words. "Actually, McGee, we're here to see what we can do to assist you in finding the bastard who put them there."

"Well, to do that..." Tim thought wildly for a minute, and noticed Fornell's amused look. "You've been read in? Did they tell you what that shit did?" Fornell's expression hardened at Tim's blunt phrasing, but Tim was beyond caring.

"No, McGee. They only said that they were in the hospital, and that they were fine, pending some tests." Fornell pulled the chair out from behind Gibbs' desk, while Sacks did the same from the empty one on the corner. "Can you tell us?"

Ziva pulled her chair out from behind her desk. "I am not certain the two of them would want their condition to be passed out like a bad check." Sacks looked confused, but Fornell and Tim just nodded.

"Passed _around_ , Ziva, and that's a good point. We might need to get their approval since there's all that HIPPA stuff to think about." Tim rubbed a hand over his face.

"Hippo? What does an African mammal have to do with their situation?" Ziva frowned.

"Never mind. I want to share, but I don't really want to face their wrath if it's not what they want." Tim opened his mouth to say more, but the elevator dinged again, and a tall, sturdily built black man in an army colonel's uniform and strode over to his desk.

"It's a moot point, anyway, Agents." The man held out a hand. "Colonel Hamilton P. Smith Junior at your service." He smiled. "I hear you were a thorn in my predecessor's side. You don't look like her descriptions of him, though. You Agent Gibbs?"

Sacks, Fornell, Ziva and Tim all snorted at that. "Nossir." Tim stood up, grabbed the man's hand. "I'm Special Agent Timothy McGee. I'm Gibbs' junior agent. Agent Gibbs and Agent DiNozzo -- his 2IC -- are both in the hospital at the moment. What can we help you with?" He gestured to the feebs. "Agents Fornell and Sacks are here to assist us on a case. Colonel, you mentioned your predecessor?"

"Hollis Mann." Tim's expression tightened up considerably. "And, it's Ham." _Ham_ frowned, looking over at the FBI agents. "Fornell..." He tilted his head, scrutinizing the older agent for a long moment. "Not the Fornell in the warehouse with Gibbs and DiNozzo?"

"The very same. Pleasure to meet you, Ham. Can I make an assumption that you're here about the Varelli case?" Tim returned to his seat, letting the big dogs fight it out.

"If you're talking about Cpt. Jason Eddison, then, yes. We're talkin' about the same thing."

"Eddison?" Tim's eyebrows shot up. "That could be why we couldn't find him, Fornell. He's using a different name."

"Eddison _is_ his real name. You know him by Varelli? That's his mother's maiden name. He used it from time to time to hide or to help his momma's family." They all nodded, and Tim began typing furiously, bringing Eddison's record up on the plasma.

"Captain Jason Michael _Varelli_ Eddison. Well, that explains a hell of a lot." He frowned. "He's 33 years old, five-eight and one eighty." Tim gestured up to the picture. "Okay. Exemplary service record, served for years, and then was RIF'd. Where was he when he was RIF'd, Colonel?"

"Ham. He was at USAMRIID. Worked for an experimental program." The Colonel looked around. "Mind if I snag this chair?" Tim shook his head. Ham pulled the chair from behind DiNozzo's desk, and wheeled it out to sit beside the others.

"Well, that'd explain..." Ziva and Tim shared a speaking look.

"Explain what, son?" Ham wanted to know specifics.

"Well, the yellow powder the guys were dosed with is having some strange effects. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a cross between a bad episode of Star Trek and the Twilight Zone."

"You don't say. Dammit." Ham pulled his cover off and laid it in his lap, running his hands over his face. "Was hopin' to get all that stuff before it got out into the public. Gonna have to call USAMRIID in on this. I hate dealin' with those guys." He shook his head. "There's a few of 'em that are fine, but there's a few of 'em that are real pains in the ass."

"Colonel Smith. Good to see you here. I wish it were under better circumstances." Director Vance stepped into their little area of the bullpen, and Tim could feel a headache forming behind his eyes. "I trust your superiors were clear on the delineation of duties here?"

"Yessir." Ham stood and stuck out his hand. "Call me Ham, sir." He smiled a genial smile, and shook the Director's hand firmly when Vance grasped it.

"Then call me Leon. Alright. McGee, what do we have?" He turned to look up at the plasma, gazing at the face. "That's Varelli, right?"

"Yes and no, Boss," Tim replied, wincing as the moniker slipped out before he realized it. It did fit, though. "That's the guy, yeah. He was just born with a different name."

"Stupid SOB to take on Varelli as a last name if he's not one." Vance replied, fishing a toothpick from his pocket and unwrapping it before sticking it in his mouth.

"Yeah. He was born into it, though. Just the wrong parent." Vance nodded his understanding of Tim's assessment.

Ham snorted at their comments, and then picked up the thread. "I was just tellin' these fine agents that Eddison worked for USAMRIID in an experimental program." He leaned back a little in his chair. "Actually, that's what got me sent over here. That powder was one of their creations, or near enough. The formula was part of a secret test program."

"Of course it was," Vance deadpanned. "That why we never heard back from them on it?"

"Probably. They probably burned the sample and the files about it." Ham grimaced.

"Well, we need to know what the hell that is. Two of my very best agents got a face full of that shit, and I don't have a clue how to help them. McGee," Vance turned to Tim, gesturing to his phone. "Get Ms. Scuito and Doctor Mallard up here. We might as well have the full deck." He rolled his eyes. "In fact..." He glanced around the bullpen. "It might be easier to have this little confab in the conference room. There's enough chairs, and we can all spread out the pertinent information. You able to set that up, Tim?"

"I can do that in five minutes, Director. Meet you all there?" He tilted his head in a move that he got from Gibbs, and Vance shook his head slightly at it before nodding.

"Sounds like a plan." He gestured toward the conference room, muttering something about 'more like the old man every day.'

Tim laughed, and picked up the handset to his phone.

* * *

 

Ham followed the crowd through the pumpkin-colored walls to the conference room. He glanced around and grabbed himself a glass and water before settling in to an empty chair. He had no illusions about the meeting itself. With G-Men and Hollis' famed MCRT involved, CID would be lucky to get a kick in the ass on the way out of this mess. Even though it was their guy doin' the deed.

Vance begun the meeting with a summation of the case thus far. That made sense. He hinted a little at the strange symptoms the vics were having, but didn't elaborate. His forensic scientist, a young thing with dark, wild hair and eyes, bounced in her seat and pronounced the whole thing ' _hinky_.' Ham could see how well-loved she was, even among the G-men. They just smiled indulgently and nodded before returning to the task at hand.

"Doctor Mallard, do we have any sort of estimate of when your boys will be able to leave the hospital?" Ham piped up, wanting to talk to the vics himself.

"No, Hamilton, I cannot say with any certainty when Doctor Pitt and I will see fit to let them out. Their symptoms may not be contagious, but they do bear watching. Currently, they're in a low-maintenance room for observation."

"They're awake, though? Would they mind if I went and talked to them myself? That way we're all on the same page..." Ham leaned forward a little, not wanting to push the two men if he didn't have to. Hollis had been a bitch to work for and even more so when she got on a tear. He was still cleaning up her messes in the interpersonal field. "I know Col. Mann was a little more forward about things, but I prefer a laid back approach if I can manage it." As expected, his words made the men and women around the table snort in amusement. He smiled broadly. "Just tryin' to get to the bottom of this."

"And so are we all," Vance nodded. "Doctor Mallard, if you can ask Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo if they're willing to have Hollis' replacement come and give them an interview? Stress that it's voluntary, though sharing of information among all of us may lead to a break." He chewed nervously on that damn toothpick. Ham wanted to reach out and grab the damn thing, and throw it toward the wall, see if it'd stick. "Ask them also -- or at least sound 'em out -- about reading Fornell in. I know he's not gonna want to have this information out there very far. Maybe just Tobias, and then if he sees fit, he can pass a little of it on? I know Agents Gibbs and Fornell have been friends a long time. Let's use that to our advantage here." _And wasn't that just the name of the game_ , Ham thought. _Keepin' things to everyone's advantage._

"I shall attempt to do so, though I would prefer to have that particular conversation face to face, Director." He gave Vance a long, pointed look, sending stacks of data with the glare.

"Yeah, I think I'd rather you did, too. Who's on for takin' 'em supper tonight?" Vance agreed, then smiled when Abby raised her hand, bouncing in place.

"Me, Leon. I'm taking them some Italian food. I haven't decided whether I should take pizza, or spaghetti. Tony didn't want pizza when we were there, and that's just _hinky_ , Leon. He _always_ wants pizza." She narrowed her eyes at Ham. "If this stuff changes them too much ..." Before she could offer a real threat, however, Vance cut her off.

"Thank you, Ms. Scuito." He snorted. "If you wouldn't mind if Doctor Mallard accompanies you?" Abby nodded, one hand across her mouth as though she were forcing herself not to interrupt the meeting. She did give the ME a thumbs-up sign.

"That will work, then, Director." The old man nodded, and waited for the next point on the agenda.

"I know the usual procedure is to have a pissin' match over which agency gets to keep the reins of the investigation, who gets the evidence, who goes where to gather intel, but I really want to try to avoid all that this time around." He smiled wryly, looking directly at Ham and Fornell each for a moment. As leads for their respective agencies, it was there call whether to pull strings and push things, or whether they'd fall in line.

"That was my superior's hope as well, Vance." Fornell nodded, making a note in his notebook. Ham thought he might just be doodling to pass the time. Sacks looked like he had a game up on his hand computer thing. "Don't tell anyone," Fornell continued, a heavy irony in his voice, "but it was Ron's idea to come over here and try the cooperation thing." Ron -- Ham gathered he meant Agent Sacks -- jerked his head up and glared at his superior. Ham just snorted.

"Won't tell a soul, Agent Sacks. Your secret's safe with me." Vance grinned. "I'm glad. What did you have in mind?"

"Thought about letting McGee loose with our stuff. Opening the door a bit. Just for this..." Sacks cautioned, giving McGee a heavy look. _Ohh, the private history there._ Ham could see it.

"It'd definitely make it easier for me to find what I'm looking for, yeah." The young computer wizard replied, amused.

"I'd help him out. I usually do when it gets tough. When you need more fingers." Abby lifted her hands, wiggling her fingers. "Once we..." She stopped her sentence at a pointed glare from her boss. "Oh, right. Not the time." She affixed a sheepish grin on her face, and shrugged. "Sorry."

"That sounds like an excellent place to start. And you've cleared this with your boss already?" Fornell nodded to Vance's question. "Good. That's where we'll start with you, Tim. What about you, Ham? What do you need or want, or what angle can you work?"

"Let me get on the USAMRIID guys," Ham ran the acronym together to make three syllables. "See if I can shake some more information loose on the possible effects of the powder. I won't let 'em know you've got more until I get someone there who'll work with me. Not many of them will."

"You might mention that it has possible Homeland Security applications, Ham." McGee piped up, and almost everyone in the room, save the Israeli, the little girl and the doctor blinked.

"How's that, McGee?" It was Vance who asked the question on everyone else's minds.

"It was Tony's idea, Director." This came from Ziva. "He suggested, that with the specific..." She struggled with the words, and Ham admired her for keeping at the language. English was a very difficult language to achieve native fluency in, especially American English. "The specific symptoms, if it were to influence say, one terrorist and one target. How did Tony phrase it?"

"'Invisible, unbeatable corruption.' At that point, Anthony was referring to the mafia, but we did reference terrorism in that conversation, yes." Doctor Mallard -- who enigmatically called everyone by their full given names, but insisted on being called by a nickname -- explained helpfully. Or at least it must have helped Vance.

"Can see that. DiNozzo's got a point." Vance's expression tightened considerably. "Is the powder in your lab still dangerous, Ms. Scuito?" Leon looked over at the scientist, and she shook her head.

"No, it's all inert. That's what the CDC said. They couldn't see any chemical reactions going on at all. So it must have been all sealed in an airtight place and reacted with something in the air...." She started scribbling down, and the other young one, the man in scrubs, looked over and pointed something out on her sheet. She nodded, and kept on writing. "But, I don't know if the OO-SAM guys know that we have any or that we know it's inert."

Ham was confused. "What?"

Fornell was the one to catch on to what she was saying. "She's saying we could exert the pressure on the bastards at USAMRIID by making them think we think the stuff is still active. That is if no one at Bethesda's talked to them."

"Ohhh. I see. Getting them to admit at least that might go farther... make them think they're giving us something. It might work." Ham wasn't sure. It wasn't usually his style to go into something with a false premise, but it had worked before.

"Might not be the only tool in the box, Colonel, but at least it's there if you need to use it." Ham acknowledged the point, and Vance went on to the brass tacks of what everyone knew. They started pulling information together and making tentative plans. After two hours of good, solid discussion, everyone was worn out. "Alright, people, that's it. Thank you. Those of you who answer to me," Vance's smile was wry, "go home, eat, sleep. Abby and Ducky, go see those boys. The rest of you, thank you for your time." With that, the meeting was over, and Ham went to go make sense of it all, and decide what the hell to tell his superiors.


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs and Tony spent the time away from the team alternately sleeping and talking. They both needed the rest; even before the incident, they'd both been running so ragged that the respite was welcomed. They realized they slept very well wrapped up in each other's arms. Tony tried not to think too hard about _how_ well they slept. It led to him having to think through too many deep things. He was trying to avoid doing that for more reasons than just hurting Jethro.

"Somethin'on your mind, Tony?" Jethro woke up again, his voice gravelly with sleep. He'd taken more of the time to sleep than Tony had. Tony had been conducting 'experiements' -- for lack of a better word -- on their connection.

"Sort of. Not sure exactly how to phrase it yet, Jet. Trying to process this without thinking too deeply, but wanting to get to the point that we can. We're gonna be no good as investigators, or much of anything else, really, if we can't get this squared away." He ran his hands through his hair. Sometime in the course of the afternoon, they'd lost their shirts, figuring since it was just the two of them, the more contact would be beneficial. _This is who I am, Jet. If I can't be a cop/agent, I might as well take my ball and go home._ Tony snorted. Leave it to his mind to find a way to phrase his issues. _I'm dealing okay with the touching thing. That's kind of good, actually. It's filling something inside me that I didn't know was empty. But not being able to move really and not being able to think things through as deeply as I need to..._ He frowned. _Were this some other kind of situation, I'd see about outside help/shrink/friend/ear/lean on/Abby..._ He shook his head at the weird paths his mind took. _But with all the consequences of the powder and the fact that it could hurt other people and terrorism/corruption/evil -- I can't take that chance. Besides, who the hell would believe it?_

Jethro grunted in the way that Tony was coming to realize meant agreement as he considered the man's words. _I don't know. I wish I knew. I wish there **was** someone to come in and fix this, because it's way outta my league. Hurtin you..._ Jethro tightened his arms around Tony, burying his face in the man's chest. _Hurtin' me, hurtin' the team. I can't work, can't protect, can't **do**..._

Tony sighed, and lowered his head dow to rest his cheek on the top of Jethro's head. _Shhhh. Shhh. We'll figure it out._ Deeper, another thought formed, though he was sure it still passed to his bed partner. _Though I'm not sure how._

They were laying there trying not to think when there was a soft knock at the door, and then the door was pushed open. Jethro didn't have much time to move, so he just tilted his head, pressing his cheek against Tony's chest, and sighed. "Hey, Abbs, Duck."

Tony smelled the food and his stomach started to growl. Jethro snorted at the sound and shifted himself around, moving Tony's limbs to get them both comfortable. "What'd you bring us, Abby?" Tony asked, peering toward the two of them. He knew what they brought; the shape of the box and the smell were dead giveaways. _Pizza, Boss, they brought us pizza. You think they brought my favorite? I think it might be._ He grinned, looking at the two of them.

"Hello, Jethro, Anthony. We've come bearing pizza." Ducky stepped in and seated himself in the chair, setting a box on to the table beside their bed. "This one is yours, Anthony. Sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese. Abigail bears yours, Jethro. Ham, onions and pineapple."

"Which is just hinky, bossman. Onions? On your Hawaiian pizza?" She stepped in, and Tony could hear Jethro's mind as he noted, accepted and enjoyed the smell of the pizza.

"Just the way I like it, Abs." Tony could feel Gibbs shrug just a little. "Thanks." He gave them a half-smile, and opened the box to eat the pizza.

The two men ate in relative silence, at least externally. Each had their own mental process of enjoying the pizza, which seemed to amuse the other. They kept exchanging small knowing looks. _Feels like a date, Jet. Like I'm sharing some secret with you, and it's a damn good one._ Tony couldn't help the thought that slipped through. He froze when he realized what he'd said. _I ... I... Damn/me and my big mouth/shit. He's gonna hear/hate/wonder/pullaway/can't even...._

Gibbs reached up and whacked him on the back of the head, albeit very gently. _Shut up, Tony. Was thinkin' about the same thing, or was about to. Except better than mosta my dates._ Tony snorted, ignoring the interested looks of their visitors. "What's up, Duck?" He reached over and cuffed Tony gently before Tony could get a word out of his open mouth.

 _Completely unfair, Boss!_ But he was laughing.

"Well, gentlemen, we have a bit of a situation. We had a conference with Fornell, Sacks, and Hollis' replacement," Ducky paused, Tony figured it was to let Jethro fume a bit about Hollis, and he was right.

 _Wonder what kinda bastard they got to replace her. She had some seriously big shoes to fill._ They were finally getting over the shame and embarrassment of having all of their shit poured out into the open between the two of them. It didn't mean they still didn't feel the embarrassment or shame, but at least they were getting to the point where they recognized that it was something that they both were dealing with. _She was a mistake. Damn huge one._ Tony caught wisps of memories of good times -- mostly in bed -- and then the moments when she'd turn cold on him because he just couldn't say...

Tony closed his eyes, letting the pain roll through him. It dredged up his own failures and he let the pictures play on his mind's screen. It created a mini-spiral, bouncing back and forth. Tony totally ignored the two visitors in their room, and slid down, burying his head on Jethro's chest.

Jethro reached up, carding his hand through Tony's hair, pulling it gently, gazing out toward Abby and Ducky. "Still dealin' with havin' everything in one place." Tony could tell it was the only way he could think of to describe the pain. "Thinkin' about things brings up things for him and then ..." He made this movement with his hand that Tony recognized vaguely as very similar to one of his own. "Gotta get a handle on this, Duck. You able to stick around for a while to maybe help?" Ducky nodded.

It took a lot for Jethro to ask that, Tony knew. It warmed his heart, and pulled some of the ache away for the moment.

"C'mon, Tone. Sit up and eat more of your pizza." Jethro's voice was gentle. "You were sayin', Duck?"

"He is a rather polite man. He much prefers the slow, patient approach to the high-intensity push that you so favor, Jethro." Tony could hear the disapproval in the old man's voice.

"Works, though, Duck. You like 'im, Abs?" Jethro shifted a little, making sure he was able to see their forensic scientist better. Tony turned, too, grabbing another slice of pizza, looking on with amusement as Abby held her hands across her mouth.

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!! You both look so _sad_!!" She pulled her hand away, and immediately started talking. "Can I..." She held open her arms, and both men knew what was coming. They both nodded, and she enveloped them in a bone-crushing hug. She pulled away after thoroughly hugging them both, and planting kisses on both of their cheeks. "Now, what did you ask me?" She grinned impishly. "Oh, right. Ham's a nice guy, Gibbs. He's not at all like Mann." Tony noticed that she referred to the new guy by his first name, whereas Hollis, whom she knew better only merited a surname.

 _Pretty telling for our little Goth, isn't it?_ Tony quirked an eyebrow at his boss, and grinned. "Really, Abs? Ham?" He couldn't resist jibing her just a little.

Jethro's answer was a mental affirmative grunt, exactly like his vocal one. "Wait." Jethro was realizing he might have met the guy before, briefly. "Big black guy, kinda ... jovial?"

"Yeah, Gibbs. Very sweet." Abby pulled her chair closer to them, and reached over to try to take a piece of pizza from Jethro's box. He let her have one of course.

 _Old softie._ That did earn him a gentle cuff to the head, though he expected it. He grinned and munched on his own pizza.

"I mighta met him once or twice." Tony frowned, and then caught the subtext as Jethro remembered where. He had gone to Hollis' office to talk to her about something, and she had been out of the office, but Col. Smith had been there.

"Col. H. Smith. Poor guy." Tony grinned widely, letting his mind play a few scenes of the A-Team just so Jethro understood his comment. Tony turned around to see his reaction.

Gibbs just rolled his eyes, and looked over at Ducky. Abby was snickering, but Ducky just looked confused. "Wants t' come and talk to us?" He returned to the subject at hand.

"Yes, Jethro. I think I mentioned that part." Ducky sounded slightly annoyed. "Also, Director Vance suggested you tell Fornell about this as well, just because he was there and he is your friend."

Gibbs grunted. "Think about it." It was as close to a consideration as they would get, and Ducky acknowledged that with a nod. "Vance have a reason?"

"The case, Gibbs." Abby piped up. "We're trying to work together, and we need a little more information to be able to get on the right track. We all figured that your symptoms _might_ help with that."

 _So nice of them to make all these decisions without us..._ Tony grumbled, gazing down at his pizza again. _Pet peeve. Military school. Kicked out. Even coming back. Without any input. Jeanne. Jenny. Paula -- you know we fucked for a little bit... she just decided..._ He shrugged. _One of my biggest fears. Feeling helpless._ He turned to bury his head again, unsure of why this worked, or why it wasn't making either of them completely freak out.

Gibbs gave his mental grunt, wrapping his free arm around the man. _Yeah. One of my fears, too. Not able to **do.** To help. To save..._ His thought cut off there, and Tony could feel the raw pain still bubbling from the deep places in his psyche. _Mom. My girls. Paula. Pacci..._ They both knew. _Not knowin', not bein' involved gets 'em dead. Not losing you. Too much... too close..._ Jethro tightened his grip around him. "Got a problem with all of you discussin' this stuff without us. Understand why, but ..." Tony could feel him glaring at Ducky. His upper body tensed with the emotion.

"That's quite understandable, Jethro. We just have no idea how to handle this situation. It is a new thing for all of us." Ducky sighed. "I shall endeavor to get your opinion on all matters relating to you both from now on. Will you let Hamilton come talk with you?"

"Yeah." Gibbs replied for both of them. Both of them had come to realize the inevitability of both this 'Ham' and Fornell knowing. "Tell Tobias to come at some point, too. Not together, though." Tony snorted.

"Yeah, that'd be all we need. Besides, it might be different...." Tony shrugged. _Won't tell Tobias the same way we'd tell some random Army Colonel_.

Jethro nodded. "Hey, Duck... Abs, you can stay if you want, but you gotta promise to keep this to yourself. Don't mention this to Ziver or Tim."

"Gibbs!" Tony gazed over at his favorite forensic scientist. She looked affronted. "I can be discreet."

"I know, Abs, but I want to be sure. Ducky's got the whole doctor / patient thing ingrained. You're not always so careful." Tony could feel Jethro's intense ... regard taking in Abby's expression.

"You don't mean to, sometimes, Abs, but when you get all excited, all kind of words fall out of your mouth." Tony tried to gentle Jethro's sharp words.

"Yeah. I do get kind of excited, sometimes, but Gibbs!!" She still sounded upset. "I'll keep this secret for you. I promise." She held out her hand, pinky extended. "Pinky swear, Gibbs."

Tony could feel Jet's amusement as he stuck his own pinky out and they locked them for a few seconds. "Alright, Abs." It was enough for them.

 

"What seems to be the problem, Jethro?" Ducky asked, removing his glasses to wipe a hand down his tired face.

"Need to figure this out, Duck. Need to know how to be able to think without burnin' the other person. He's -- he thinks like a spiderweb. It's all over the place. Makes my head hurt t' listen to it. Not that it's loud or wrong itself..." Jethro seemed to run out of words, but Ducky understood, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

"And he thinks like a freight train, Ducky. One single solid thought with this intensity that barrels through our mindspace-place-thingy..." Tony looked over at Jethro with an apologetic look.

"I see your dilemma. And at the moment, I am uncertain as to how to resolve it. It would be unnatural to force the two of you to try to think like each other. Not only would it ruin the excellent teamwork you share, it could damage you more than the current situation. May I have some time to find a solution for you?"

"Yeah, Duck. Don't take too long, though. We wanna find the bastard who did this and send 'im away. Neither of us can do that without figurin' this out..." Jethro stroked his upper arm, and Tony knew it was to comfort himself more than Tony.

"I understand that, Jethro. However, this is brand new territory. You have to be patient with us. The best minds in the country are researching this, and Abigail and I are looking over the research. We do know you best, after all. Bradley has offered to chime in, too, Anthony."

Jethro nodded, and Tony felt the movement. "Thanks, Duck. Just hard t' be patient when we wanna be _doin'_." He sighed.

"I completely understand, my dear boy. Now, Abigail needs her sleep, and I believe you two could use some more yourselves.

"Been sleepin' a good part of the day." Gibbs grumbled.

"Your minds are adjusting to their new circumstances, Jethro. That takes time and energy. It is another reason why you are still here and not recuperating at home." He stood, reaching to grab his hat. "I shall see you another time, then. Come along, Abigail."

Abby nodded, stepping over to surround Tony as she hugged both men again. "Get some rest, Gibbs. You can't go haring after dirtbags if you are too tired. You get shot a lot more that way. And if you get shot, ..." She opened her mouth to say something, and Tony snorted.

"You'll kill us and leave behind no evidence. We've got it, Abby. Thanks." He grinned, and then returned to eating a little more pizza, watching the two of them leave.

* * *

 

After they finished their pizza, they set their boxes on the table, brushed the crumbs and small pieces of food off the bed, and laid down again. Predictably, Tony was the first to speak. "Boss, why isn't this freaking us out more?" _Normally, I'd be freaked to high heavens._

 _Either part of the effects of the powder, DiNozzo, or the positives are outweighin' the negatives._ Jethro responded, his mind already ticking off the benefits of being able to talk to his friend this way. _Plus, like I said, there's somethin..._ He couldn't even think it. However, his hands could demonstrate it, apparently. They started to move along Tony's skin, not in a reassuring way, but in a deeper, more primal way.

 _God, Jet. That feels so damn good. I can't ... I want. I need.._ Tony's mind babbled, and Jethro's reeled from the input. Not in pain, but just in awareness of all that the other man was thinking and feeling. _Please, touch me, Jethro. Please. Know we're not normally ... but your touch feels so good..._

Gibbs knew exactly how Tony was feeling; he felt the same way. He sighed, grabbing the man's hands, and standing up. "Not gettin' interrupted." He pulled Tony to the door, and gazed down at the door knob. There was a lock, and so he turned it. He frowned, then moved over toward the bed. He picked up Tony's phone, and handed it to him. "Call Pitt. Tell 'im we locked the door for a bit. Gonna try an alternative therapy." He snorted. _Sex does have some healing properties, huh?_

Tony laughed, and turned to press his bare back against Jethro's chest as he dialed Brad's number. "Yeah, listen, Brad, we're gonna try something. We're locking the door. I think we'll remember to unlock it, but if we don't, don't freak out, okay?" There was silence, but Jethro poked over to Tony's side of their mindspace and could hear Pitt's words. " _I don't 'freak out', Buckeye, I get concerned. But it's your show. Thanks for the heads up. I'll let the nurses know. Any idea how long you think this weird therapy should take?_ " "I don't know, Brad. Maybe a couple of hours?" _Sound about right, Boss?_

Jethro grunted his reply, and Tony passed it along. They talked for another couple minutes, and then said their goodbyes.

"Now." Tony sounded, and felt, a little nervous. He pulled them over toward the bed, running hands freely over Jethro's chest. _Have to ask, Boss. Have to know. You ever mess around with another guy before? I mean, even just to see?_

 _Little bit. Drunken fumblings, shared handjobs, that kinda crap. You?_ Jethro groaned under the pleasure the touch of Tony's hands brought.

Tony's reply was an affirmative. _Had a steady boyfriend right before RIMA -- was part of the reason Dad sent me off..._ His words trailed off. _We never got to the penetration part, but we messed around a lot._ The thought brought up more arousal in Tony's mind, and a stray thought occurred to Jethro.

 _Wonder if the drug makes this feel better than usual. Would -- would stand t' reason._ Said 'reason' was disappearing quickly.

 _Maybe. Don't really give a damn, though._ Tony continued to run his hands over the muscles in Gibbs' chest. _Want to try to kiss him/you. It's a really weird thought, but I want to kiss. Want to ..._

 _Stop mutterin' about it and **do** it, DiNozzo._ Jethro groused, grabbing Tony's hands and pressing his chest in against Tony's. _Feels so damn good._

Tony snorted his laughter, and pulled them on to the bed, laying down flat and pulling Gibbs on top of him. _Cannot wait for this. So horny. So good. Love..._ Tony's mind seemed to spiral off somewhere that Jethro couldn't even follow. It ached a bit, but he subsumed it under the rest of the reactions his body was having to his second's touch. Tony moved his hand, pulling it up behind Jethro's neck, and lowering it down toward his own. Jethro tilted his head a little to the right, and Tony turned just enough the opposite way. Their lips touched, dry and cracked, and Jethro felt a surge of pleasure course through his veins even at the light touch.

 _You're a damn hedonist, Anthony,_ Jethro thought bemusedly as he traced the source of the pleasure over to the other man's mind. He let Tony lead the kiss, opening his mouth to deepen it when he felt Tony's want change a little. It was like reading his own impulses, except lighter, more intense and more frantic. _Younger. Younger mind. Younger body. More intense needs..._ His mind was working just fine, picking up on the clues he could get from the touches and their mental connection.

 _And yours is older, not complainin' Boss,_ Tony's mind quickly supplied. S _weeter. Deeper. Slower. Takin' time to enjoy it to the fullest before moving to the next step._ Jethro groaned. That was exactly it.

 _Know each other almost too well, Tone._ His mind relaxed into the kiss, and all it could come up with for a while was groans and nonsensical babble: the kind of stuff he never would say out loud even during sex, but since their minds were linked, it was inevitable. _So good, Tony. Good kissin'. Love the touch of fingers on my skin..._ They continued to connect, not caring about the intensity of the thoughts, nor about the actual words spinning around in his head. It was touch. It was caring. It was connection deeper than anything they'd ever felt before, and they were just kissing. Jethro groaned again, thinking about their cocks getting involved. _You want that? You want more than just this point connecting? Dunno how we'd manage..._ His mind tried to figure out the logistics of getting a hold of Tony's cock. Unfortunately, there was already too much going on inside their minds.

 _Want it like fuck, Jet, but not tonight. Tonight I wanna just lay here and kiss you. Enjoying this. Needed this. Haven't touched... needed touch. And it's you..._ And there it was. There was that other thing that had been bugging Jethro the whole time, since Abby had seen their hands together, and Tony's mind had responded so sharply to the assertion that they weren't together. It was hard to think like this.

Jethro pulled back, breaking the kiss for a moment, keeping their chests aligned and touching. "You wanted me? You've wanted me. For how long?"

"Damn investigator." Tony's wry smile appeared for a short moment, and he sighed _A fuckin' long time. Not like from when we met or anything, though I did notice your eyes then. ..._ Deeper still, Jethro heard, _And your ass..._ Tony reached up to grab that ass with one hand. _But oh, I dunno. Since you got on the plane in Tel Aviv? Maybe?_ He frowned, and Jethro wanted to lower his head again, kiss that sad frown away. It was a sappy thought, and it only remained for a split-second, but Tony heard it. _Stop muttering about it, and do something about it, old man._

Jethro breathed a quiet laugh, forgetting about the revelation, except that it sounded _right_ inside his head. Whether that was Tony's presence there, the drugs, or something even more telling, neither of them knew. All Jethro knew was here, now, time and touch, and there was plenty of that. He lowered his head again, this time directing the kiss. He kept it intense, but not so intense that it pushed them over. He figured they'd go over before they were done tonight, but he wanted to spend the time on this. He'd never felt so good just kissing, and he wanted to make that last as long as he possibly could. He laved Tony's lip with his tongue, gentle and sweet, then opened his mouth, encouraging Tony to do the same. Almost seamlessly, Tony followed his lead, and Jethro slipped his tongue past Tony's teeth and swirled it around his mouth with an insistent pulsing rhythm. _Do you know what you do to me, Tony? Not just because we were pushed together..._ He heard Tony's mind consider that, consider the possibility that the older man was lying, and then accept it. _Get the thinking thing figured out, and I'll show you what I feel about you. Completely._ It was a promise, and Tony heard it, letting it rattle around in his head, and find a home. Jethro smiled into the kiss. _Rule Five, you idiot._ He snorted, then returned to intensifying the kiss.

They kissed off and on for over an hour, nearing the two-hour mark. Jethro reached between them, lowering their shorts, exposing their cocks to the air. Both men were hard as rocks, and Tony sighted as Jethro touched his cock gently at first. It was slick with pre-come, and Jethro slid it around the tip, considering what he liked done and using the same idea on the other man's dick. He altered his movements somewhat, picking up clues from Tony's mind. It wasn't long, between the stroking and the kissing, until Tony was writhing underneath him, begging mentally for release. Jethro gave it to him, the pleasure coursing through both of them, and then chuckled when Tony rolled them, pressing him down into the bed.

 _Gonna do the same to you now, Jet. Gonna make you lose your shit._ Tony began to play with the tip of his cock, mirroring what Gibbs had done to him. He twisted and pulled and slicked and generally manhandled him. Gibbs growled, the pleasure ratcheting up several rounds with every moment. All conscious thought escaped, and his subconscious kept up a steady stream of noise he was sure Tony heard.

Tony held him there, in the moment just before falling, for what seemed like years. He groaned, begged, pleaded...all within his mind, still subconsciously mindful of where they were. He demanded, but Tony just smirked down at him. Then, he lowered his head to meet Jethro's, joining their lips, and he nipped at Jethro's bottom lip gently. Jethro groaned and came hard.

 _Wow._ Tony reeled, laying down beside him. _Didn't know you felt it when I came. 'Stands to reason', doesn't it?_ Tony parroted back to him saucily.

"C'mon. We need to clean this up a little bit before we unlock the door. And Brad's gonna wanna know what we did and how it worked." Gibbs felt his cheeks flush. He stood up, and then realized he wasn't touching Tony. "Mind an experiment, Tone?"

 _As long as you don't mind if I run smashing into you when it starts to hurt. Don't want that full-on pain..._ Tony's mental reply was immediate. "Go for it, Boss."

Jethro stepped toward the shower area of the room, and waited. There was a clock in view and he kept he kept his attention on it. Five minutes passed, and he still felt fine. Six. Seven. Eight... It was starting to itch a little. Nine... He looked over at Tony who was now standing. Nine and a half. Tony began walking toward him, but didn't touch him yet. It was ten minutes even, and the pain begain. It didn't last more than a few seconds, because Tony was there, wrapping himself around him, reaffirming their connection, reinforcing the link between them. "Doubled the time. Might be somethin' to it. Not just 'cause I can't touch anyone else like this -- wouldn't be fair -- but maybe on its own ..." He rubbed the back of his neck, worrying about what Tony would think of what he was saying.

 _I get it. I get it, Jet. I really do._ Tony linked his arm into Jethro's and led him into the small shower area. They cleaned each other up, keeping the touches perfunctory and utilitarian, not wanting to waste too much more time. They wrapped towels around their waists, and went over to the bed. "Bed's a bit messy, Boss." Tony snickered.

"We'll lay the towels down. Best we can do. Good thing we got outta our shorts." He snorted. _Don't really wanna get back into spunk-filled shorts._ Tony snorted, too, grabbing his shorts from the floor, and putting them back on. It was easier having the few moments' grace. When they were fully dressed, shirts and all, Jethro unlocked the door, and led the two of them back to the bed. Jethro lay down beside Tony, running his hands possessively across his chest as he spooned behind him. They lay there in relative silence, waiting for Brad to return.

* * *

 

Tony was sure the man would figure it out when he came into the room, but Brad entered and looked them over, curiosity evident on his face. "What was this super-secret therapy, Tony?" He leaned in, looking closely at the way they laid together, more snuggled than smashed, more companionable than merely tactilely connected. "Ohhhh."

"Yeah. Found out it lets us double our time apart." Jethro sounded embarrassed to be admitting this to Brad, but Tony grinned unashamedly up at him.

"You know me, Wolverine." His face flushed a little, but this was one of his primary doctors. _He knows I've got a libido like a crackhouse whore..._ That thought slipped out, and he blushed more deeply. _Fuck. Didn't mean that how it sounded._

Jethro's own face turned a little pink, and he shook his own head slightly, pressing against Tony closely. _I get it, Tone._ Tony heard him mulling over the thought, and then, he heard something bubble up from the depths of Jet's mind. _Know you're a hedonist, Tony. Know why, too. But it's a damn honor to touch you._

 _What?_ Tony blinked, turning to hide his blushing face from the other men. Jethro's mind was trying to reassure him and finding the humor in the situation at the same time. "Stop, Jet." Tony whispered, forgetting for the moment that Brad was there.

"I wish we could let you go -- maybe we can..." Brad was looking between them. "This doesn't seem like the place to be dealing with all of this..." He frowned. "I wouldn't go back to work quite yet. Not until you can be separate for the eight hours," Tony snorted at the paltry number, and Brad's frowned deepened. "Well, at least the eight hours of a _normal_ NCIS workday." He scowled. "You two are both so driven that it's crazy. This is probably good for you that way, at least."

"Be alright to take this home, yeah." Jethro still sounded nervous. "New territory, but nothin's wrong with our dialin' fingers." He snorted. "Got you and Duck both on speed dial."

"I'll bet you do," Brad muttered. "All right. I'll see what I can do. Get dressed the rest of the way. I don't have to tell you that you'll be living together for the foreseeable future. So, if you want to make arrangements to get your stuff taken to his house," Brad looked at Tony for the first part, and Gibbs for the last, as if he knew exactly how it would play out. _Well, he kinda did,_ he thought.

 _We're too damn predictable sometimes,_ Jethro groused, but didn't complain or disagree about the assessment. _Get someone t' bring your big TV and your movies. Might as well, right? We'll figure out movin' you completely in._ It wasn't a resigned thought, but a welcoming, protective one. Still, doubts kept swirling around in Tony's mind. _Would've asked ya eventually, Tone. This just speeds things up a bit._

Tony felt much better at that, and leaned back against his lover, smiling.

After getting dressed and the appropriate phone calls to Vance and Ducky, the two of them headed home to Gibbs' house.


	8. Chapter 8

Ducky showed up to take them home. Gibbs and Tony had attempted to get a little more dressed, putting on their work pants and shoes, but keeping the sleeveless shirts on. They wanted to keep their arms as uncovered as possible. It was summer, so the outdoors wouldn't be a problem. They finished up their paperwork and walked out toward the entrance, keeping their arms brushing one another until they were out of the building. It was a mutual decision to avoid holding hands until they were outside; they didn't want to draw more attention to themselves than they already did with their unusual attire.

The doctors decided to forgo the wheelchairs since both men were walking well and they needed to be able to touch periodically. They quickened their strides, apologizing to Ducky as they did, feeling the pain of the separation starting even with the light brushes. It wasn't enough, apparently. Gibbs took off toward the door, Tony keeping pace with him. He tossed a casual, "I'll call you, Brad" back for both of them, and then, finally, they reached the door. There was a dark alcove off to the side that Jethro knew was probably for smokers. _Will this bother you/him if we stand in the smokers' corner and neck like teenage boys?_

Tony's snort and amusement at his question was all the response he needed. He pressed his younger lover against the wall, mindful of any potential pain or soreness on his back, and fastened his lips over Tony's in a savaging kiss. _Want to take you, but I'll wait until we're safe at home. Need you._ The lust bounced around between them, and Jethro realized that if he didn't gentle the kiss and pull back, they'd put on a show for the gawkers who were starting to gather. _You gonna be alright for a while, Tony?_

 _Other than my cock trying to jump even after getting off so recently, yeah, I'm good, Jet. Let's get home._ Jethro smiled as the picture of home he caught in Tony's mind was _his_ home, wrapped up with him in a bed. The bed wasn't right; it was like it was Tony's bed in Jet's room.

 _Might be a good idea. We'll have to see who's is bigger. Know yours is probably softer, but softer isn't always best for my back._ Jethro sighed, and eased back from his kiss, letting the younger man breathe. _C'mon. Duck's bound to be around here somewhere, and probably with a damn story to tell._

Tony laughed, running a thumb across his kiss-swollen lips. Jethro's cock tried to jump too, but it hadn't been long enough, even with their shared lust. _You know it. Wouldn't be Ducky without it, would it?_ He grinned irrepressibly, and grabbed Jethro's hand, twining their fingers. "Don't worry Boss. We're outside the building. If they fuss, I'll have you glare at them." Jethro rolled his eyes and they walked out toward the parking lot.

"Anthony! Jethro! There you are. I had wondered where you got to. Are you ready to go?" Ducky looked over his glasses, eyebrows raised, gazing intently at the two of them, probably noticing everything about their faces.

 _You know he's gonna ask. Ya mind us havin' to explain t' him?_ Jethro glanced between his lover and his friend. "Think so, Duck." He let go of Tony's hand, and slid his hand under the edge of his shirt, running his fingers along the plane of his lower back. He closed his eyes for a moment at the soft stirrings of pleasure that passed through both of them just from that small touch.

 _Not sure it matters, Boss._ Tony replied. "Yeah, we're good." He leaned into the touch and shivered. _He's gonna say what he's gonna say. You know that._

Ducky led them toward his tiny car, making his usual -- clucking noises as he went. "You gentlemen should be more discreet. Everyone who looks at you can tell you have been -- altering the nature of your relationship. Not that I have any problem with the fact itself, merely the time and place of your pitching and wooing."

 _Pitching and wooing? He sounds like Jack. Except Jack would be more straightforward. 'Fuckin' around' or something_. Gibbs snorted. "Kinda necessary, Duck. The more intense the contact, the less we haveta keep doin' _this._ " He released his hold on Tony's back, grabbed his hand, and held up the entwined fingers. "Not that I mind it a bit." He kissed Tony's knuckles and gazed over at Tony. _Dunno how the hell I missed this. Might be a blessing in disguise, Tony. Not sure I ever woulda gotten my head outta my ass long enough to recognize this._ He sighed as they finally reached the car. "Both gotta sit in the back, Tone. Don't think we can be apart that long yet."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that myself." _Not that I mind sitting in the back of a car with you, Jethro._ Gibbs could _hear_ the eyebrow waggle in his voice. He snorted, and shook his head. _Got a preference for which side you want? I'd really like to sit behind the passenger seat, having the longer legs and all, but if he/you want/s the more space, I'll let him/you, because he's/you're the boss and lover and always defer..._

Gibbs stopped walking a few feet away from the car. Tony stopped too, his arm jerking with the force of Gibbs' abrupt halt. _You ... always? Always he/you give/s up things? Always?_ "Why?" He voiced his thoughts, not caring that Ducky heard this part. "Not worth _always_ , Tony." _Sometimes it's nice. At work, it's good. But always?_

"Always." Tony started walking again, pulling him along just enough so they would lean against Ducky's Aston Martin. "You are worth always. Always have been." Jethro rolled his eyes at Tony's teasing smile, and pulled him away from the car. They were on the passenger side, and Jethro pulled the door open. Tony let his hand go, and started to walk around to the other side when Gibbs grabbed him, kissed him slowly and deeply for a few seconds, and then nearly pushed him into the seat. "Boss?"

"Don't always have to, especially when there's a good reason. You're right. Your damn legs _are_ longer. Shouldn't have to sit behind Ducky." Jethro made sure he was all tucked in safely, shut the door, and strode quickly around to the other side, the lack of touch already annoying him. Not because of the itch or pain from the chemical, but another, more normal ache. He just wanted to keep his hands on his -- _what do I call you/him? Boyfriend just sounds **wrong**._ Jethro opened the door, settled himself and shut the door before addressing the flash of hurt that he felt from Tony. _You wanna call us boyfriends, go ahead. Just too teeny-bopper for me, Tony._ He frowned. "Duck, might regret asking this, but what do I call this? Or him? Not a teenager." He buckled his seatbelt, then tugged gently on Tony's making sure it was secure. _Precious cargo_ , his mind instantly supplied.

"Whitman called his lover his _camerado_. His comrade. I much prefer the term _innomarato,_ myself. Lover. In fact, it's the Italian phrase for 'I'm in love with him.' Which has an interesting history." The ME opened his mouth to continue, and Jethro cut him off.

"Thanks Duck." _Not sure that's right either. Partner/lover/husband/mine..._ his mind stacked words one on top of the other. _Maybe ask Tim. He's the word guy. Has to be just right. Don't want to fuck this up._ He had honestly forgotten that Tony was sitting right beside him, able to catch every bit of his thought process.

 _Husband? You would? Forever? Even without the touching/need/pain/want/thought-stuff? Even then?_ Tony turned his head to face him, eyes alight with curiosity and hope.

 _Dunno, Tony. Maybe, without this crap, yeah. I dunno. Like I say though, might never've gotten my head outta my ass._ He sighed, sliding a little bit closer to Tony, still mentally puzzling about what to call _this_. "Partner works. Just don't want people to misunderstand and think it's a work thing." There was another flare of hurt. " _Only_ a work thing," he corrected. "Ready to go, Duck," Jethro explained as they got closer to the turnoff toward Tony's place. "Need someone t' go pick up a few things at Tony's, though." _Gonna have t' live together. My place okay? It's bigger, and it's paid for._ He snorted. _Don't wanna just ..._ He waved his hand, referring to their earlier conversation about not making all the decisions.

 _Your place is fine, Boss. It's bigger, it's paid for, and you feel safe. I feel safe with **you** , so wherever you are..._ Tony's face flushed as he replied. He looked down to their entwined hands, stroking his thumb along the side of his Jethro's finger.

 _God, that feels good,_ his mind helpfully supplied. He saw Tony's cheeks flush a little and shook his head. "So, we have 'em get a few days' worth of clothes, and figure out the rest as we go? That work?"

"Clothes, toiletries... Yeah. I wish there was a way to get my big TV over to your place, Boss. But I can watch my movies on my laptop until then." Tony shrugged, leaning back against the seat, throwing his free arm across his eyes. _Tired. Know we've done a lot of sleeping, but just damn tired._ He sighed, and squeezed Jethro's hand again.

"Yeah. Me too." Jethro didn't specify which part he was replying to, at least not audibly. _We'll get your crap over, Tony, get us all settled in. Snuggle up together and get through this._ He snorted. _Sound like a teenage girl._

Tony laughed, lowering his arm to look askance at Gibbs.

"That sounds so strange when you don't know what's going on, gentlemen." Ducky chimed in. "It does give me a new appreciation for ..." He started in on one of his rambles, and Jethro just let the words slide over him. He noticed that Tony took in every word while resting and considering what he needed -- he multitasked much better than Gibbs did, that was clear. "Would you mind if I had Mister Palmer assist in getting your things, Anthony?" He looked back at the two of them.

"Sure, Duck. I don't mind." Gibbs spoke before consulting Tony. He turned his head to look over at his lover. Tony shrugged, and answered the unspoken -- even unthought -- question.

 _I don't mind, Jet. He's good at doing the little things for the team. He was a huge help when you..._ Gibbs could feel the deep ache that forestalled the rest of that sentence.

 _Yeah._ He sighed. "We almost there, Duck?" He needed to get Tony home and wrap him up.

"We're here, Jethro. Let's get the two of you inside."

"Not invalids, Ducky." Tony grumbled, just as Jethro was about to.

"I did not suggest you were, Anthony. Just that this new situation may offer challenges that neither of you had considered." Ducky sounded a little affronted, and Jethro frowned, letting his thoughts swirl.

"Yeah, I suppose." Tony shrugged.

 

* * *

 

Jimmy stepped out of autopsy after finishing his routine chores. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Breena had asked him to grow his hair out just a little so that she could plan his style for the wedding, and it was starting to bother him. He walked toward the exit when his phone rang. He looked at the ID, and sighed. It was his boss. He probably had some other small tasks he'd forgotten to put on the list. He sighed again in resignation and flipped open his phone. "Palmer here."

"Oh, hello, Mister Palmer. Would you mind doing me a favor? I hope that I've caught you before you've headed on home?" Ducky sounded a bit nervous. So, it wasn't something in their domain. Otherwise, he'd just snap out the order and be done. Politely of course.

"No, Doctor Mallard. I was just finishing up the nightly inventory. You caught me just about to shrug on my coat." He pasted on a tired smile, knowing his mentor could hear his mood through the cell phones.

"Oh, then, perfect timing. Would you mind ever so much if you stopped by Anthony's apartment and retrieved a couple days' worth of clothing and a few of his DVDs for him? We'll have to organize moving him completely over here of course, but they just need a few things to tide them over for a few days."

Jimmy's smile brightened in relief. He could do that. He'd been wanting to see Tony, and since the two of them were an inseparable pair now, he'd have to see Agent Gibbs. "I think I can do that, Doctor Mallard. Is he going to be working, or just hanging out at their house?" He alluded to the inevitability of the two of them living together now.

"They'll be staying home for another few days, my dear boy. What an astute young man you are, Mister Palmer." Jimmy's cheeks flushed at the praise.

"Thank you, Doctor Mallard." Jimmy finished the conversation and hung up. He started to head toward the door again. However, he was waylaid by Abby.

"Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy!!" Abby bounced up and down, but she didn't hug him. He wasn't quite that close to the lab tech. They had a decent friendship, he figured, but they weren't as close as she was to the rest of the team. It was fine with him; he liked being a little bit detached from all these strong-willed people.

"Hey, Abby," he greeted, wondering what she wanted. She only greeted him like this if she wanted information. "Everything alright?" If he came out and asked, though, she'd dance around the issue. But if he just let her take her time and get to the point, she would. Much sooner. Inwardly, he rolled his eyes.

"Well, I was thinking." Abby chewed on her thumbnail. "I was wondering if you'd heard from the Bossman and Tony yet?" He smiled, knowing exactly what she was worried about.

"They made it home this afternoon, Abby, and I'm going to go to Tony's to get a few things for him. They're going to live at Agent Gibbs' house, I think, since..."

Abby cut him off. "Oh, yeah. That makes the most sense. He's already paid for his house, and it's bigger." She nodded rapidly, the movement making her ponytails bounce up and down. He chuckled. "Do you want some help? Do they want me to come help you? Would Tony mind?" She shot her questions at him rapid-fire, not letting him respond to one before the next one was out of her mouth.

"I don't know, Abby. I was just going to go get a couple things. They'll be doing a full move shortly, and I'm sure you'll be able to help them out then. I want to get this done and get home to Breena. We're supposed to be picking out napkins tonight. I have no clue what I should say. I mean, last time I offered an honest opinion, she slugged me in the arm and made me sleep on the couch for three nights." He winced at the memory. "You haven't been talking to her, have you?" He teased the lab tech, referring to her habit of punching the men on her team on the arm.

"I've only met your fiancee once, Jimmy. She sounds like a very smart lady, though," Abby teased in return. "Well, I'll let you go. You tell Gibbs and Tony that I want to help them move and that they'd better call me every day. I'll know if you don't, Jimmy, and remember, I can kill you and leave no forensic evidence."

"Understand. I'll let them know. You have a good evening, Abs."

"You too, Gremlin." Impulsively, she grabbed him, squeezing him tightly, twice. "You pass those on to Tony and Gibbs." He rolled his eyes.

"Alright. I'll do that."

They parted ways, and Jimmy headed to his car.

* * *

 

Ron Sacks sat at his desk in the Hoover Building, going over the information on his screen. "Varellis and de Rosas. I wish I had DiNozzo's cheat sheet." He muttered more to himself than to his boss who sat right across from him. "Varelli... Varelli ... Hold on..."

"DiNutzo thought maybe he'd gone after the wrong Valentino. Like he was supposed to shoot Valentino DeRosa instead of Valentino Durrell. He wasn't able to find any evidence to support that, then ..." Fornell waved a hand in front of his face, his stress showing.

"Yeah. Poor bastards." Ron frowned, looking at the information on his screen. "That would actually make more sense than the bullshit I've got here about it being a random shot..." He stroked his chin, thinking. "What would Varelli do if he shot the wrong man? He couldn't go home, right?"

"And now that we've got his warehouse lab..." Tobias was thinking too.

"Army buddies?" Ron wondered aloud, snapping his fingers. "Why not? Well, we'd have to talk to the new guy, what's his face? Ham, but I think it might be worth a peek." He looked over at his boss for confirmation and when the older man nodded once, he picked up the phone and dialed the CID. "This is Special Agent Ronald Sacks with the FBI. I'd like to talk to Colonel Ham Smith if he's available..."


	9. Chapter 9

Ham got the call from the FBI agent and looked down at his notes. "Lieutenant," he began, turning his head to look over at his aide. "Get me the names of anyone in the New York area who served with Captain Eddison. Actually, make it New York, New Jersey and DC to start with."

"Yes sir," his Lieu replied. While Jackson was pulling up the information, Ham sat there, tapping his fingers on his desk, laying the information out in straight rows in his mind. He considered all the different angles he'd heard, and frowned.

"Jackson," he spoke again. The young Lieutenant looked up, tilted his head, waiting for his superior's orders. "Eliminate anyone who had any connection to the mob and who had a biochem degree or that worked with him on the USAMRIID stuff." They might have to go back to those later, but he was playing a hunch.

"That leaves one person, Colonel." The young man replied. "Captain Daniel Joseph Madkins. He's twenty-three years old, lives in Hoboken, New Jersey. Eddison would still be able to see Manhattan from there, but would be far enough away that he would feel safe, I think." Ham nodded approvingly at his subordinate's train of thought. Some, like Hollis, discouraged free thought. Ham thought that was rather stupid since it was usually those free thoughts that solved cases.

 _To each his own,_ he thought. He pulled up the file on Madkins, and perused it. "Clint, keep working and narrow it down. If there are any others, including the ones I thought it wouldn't be, let me know. Gut says this is him, but we'll keep checking to be sure." He stood, let the man salute him properly, gave his own salute, and headed out to go talk to Vance and Fornell about his findings.

* * *

 

Tony's smile was wearing thin, and he was _this_ close to nodding off in the middle of one of Ducky's stories. Jethro seemed to notice and reached around his shoulders, rubbing them just a little harder than was comforting. It didn't hurt, but it also didn't allow him to fall asleep. _All I want to do, Jethro, is lay down with you, curl up and fall asleep, then wake up, mess around some more, and go back to sleep. Well, eat somewhere in there, too._ Gibbs snorted at his comments, and Ducky shot them a look, then blinked.

"Oh, my. You both look so tired. I was sitting here, waiting for Mister Palmer, not even thinking about how tired you both must be. This has been an ordeal, after all, and your bodies are still getting used to sharing mind space. It is only reasonable that they are exhausted." He looked down at his watch. "He should be here by now. After all, it doesn't take _that_ long for one to travel to your apartment and then over here, does it, Anthony?"

"No, Duck," Tony replied, almost by rote. He was running on empty, and it showed. He heard a sound outside -- the rumble of a car engine followed by a closing of a car door. Another creaking noise sounded like a trunk opening. "Think he's here, finally."

"Excellent." Ducky slapped his thighs with his hands, making Tony jump. "Oh, pardon me, Anthony." He frowned, and went to open the door for Jimmy who appeared to be struggling with a couple bags. Tony laughed, disentangled himself from Jethro's arms, and moved to get the stuff Jimmy had brought.

"Hello, Doctor Mallard, Agent Gibbs, Tony. Here are the things you asked for. I'm sorry it took so long. I forgot I have Breena's car. Mine's in the shop. They're having to replace the catalytic converter. It's going out, and the inspection is next month. We both need cars, so I figured I'd use hers while she was in the shop. It just takes a little longer in that car, because sometimes it does this funny thing..."

"It's okay, Jimmy," Tony grinned, ruffling the younger man's hair. "Thanks for the help. I wouldn't have been able to ..." He paused, as something Jimmy said hit him. "Gremlin, you're a _genius_!" All three men looked at him strangely. _The thought thing, Jet. The thought thing._ His mind was so tired he couldn't phrase it properly. "That might do it... you know. Converting from ..."

"Oh!" Jethro nodded. "Makes sense. Thanks, Palmer. You mighta just solved a big problem for us." He smiled, and Jimmy looked between them, nonplussed.

"What did I do?" Jimmy stood there, holding the last couple bags of stuff. "I just went and got this stuff..."

"No, Jimmy, the part about your catalytic converter. It converts the exhaust into something different, right?" Tony was gesturing with his hands. "Explain it, Ducky."

"Mister Palmer, you recall our conversation about determining a method for the two of them to be able to converse properly inside their shared mind-space?" Ducky smiled benignly at Tony's way of passing off the explanation to the most wordy one in the room.

"Oh, yeah." Jimmy smiled at his mentor, nodding enthusiastically enough that the bags still slung on each shoulder started to wobble.

"Set those down, Jimmy before you drop my laptop," Tony interjected, having unloaded a few things and then moved to sit back down in Jethro's embrace when he felt the pull again. He snuggled into the crook of Jethro's arm, barely feeling the light head-slap Jethro gave him.

 _You needed it,_ Jethro commented, whether intentionally or not wasn't clear, nor was it pertinent. Tony snorted and listened to Ducky continue his explanation.

"They have been casting about frantically for a means by which to -- convert their thoughts from one format to another. Nothing has seemed to work. This may be the solution. Thank you, Mister Palmer."

"Well, uh," Jimmy had set the bags down, and was now rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. "I didn't do much, just talked about my stupid car. It's an older one, you see, so it's got the old converter that ..."

"Yes, quite," Ducky cut him off, and both men on the couch looked at Ducky in shock. "What? You gentlemen need to get to sleep and Mister Palmer's ramblings are preventing that. Thank you for your assistance, Mister Palmer, but I do believe you were intending to choose napkins tonight with your intended?"

"Yeah, I better run, or Breena's going to slug me again. I swear she's been talking with Abby." Both Jethro and Tony snorted, and Ducky smiled at Jimmy.

"Drive safely, Mister Palmer. I do not wish to have to exercise my skills on your dead body." Ducky replaced the fedora on his head.

"Yes, Doctor," Jimmy sounded resignedly tolerant of the man's brusque manner toward him. "Oh." He looked nervous, but stepped toward the pair of them anyway. "Abby said to give you this..." Inhaling, _plucking up his courage,_ Tony thought, and then he wrapped his arms around the pair of them, squeezing once, perfunctorily, and then backed away. "I wanted to be able to say I'd passed the message along. She wanted to help, but I told her she could definitely help when we move everything of yours over here." The nervous expression returned. "That's all right, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Jimmy, it's good." Tony smiled and stuck his fist out for the young man to bump. "Thanks again, Gremlin. We'll see you around when we get this figured out."

"If not before," Gibbs added. "Thanks, Palmer." He gave a brusque nod, and Tony and Jethro watched as Jimmy and Ducky left the house.

Jethro pulled his arm out from around behind Tony's shoulder and stood up, holding out his hand for Tony to take. _C'mon. It's not as soft as your bed, but I need to sleep, and you do too._ Tony took the offered hand and pulled himself up.

 _Alright. Sleep good. We can talk about the converter thing later. But that sounds like it will really work. I can't wait to ..._ He cut himself off, realizing he was about to start getting more intense than Jethro could handle at this point. _That._

 _Yeah. We'll get it figured out. And we'll do some other stuff, too._ The pictures that accompanied the thoughts passing through to his side of their mental bullpen had Tony's cock hardening, but he smiled and walked up the stairs, too tired to even think about sex.

 _That's really damn tired, you know._ It was the last thought he had before shucking his pants, laying down on the bed, and curling up around his lover to sleep.

* * *

 

 _Or we could deal with it now,_ Tony's mind supplied as they found themselves back in their 'mental bullpen' a few minutes after falling asleep. Or that's how it seemed to him.

"Yeah. Apparently, we need to get this taken care of now?" Gibbs looked up at him from his side of the room. "Where would we put it? And what are we putting in place?"

"Well, it needs to be a converter. So, it'd be open-ended on my side, and sort of focused on yours? Catch all my thoughts like a dreamcatcher and funnel them into something more intense for your brain." Tony was sketching a picture on his desk. "Like this?" It looked hinky as hell, but it might work. "What do you think?"

"Then I just direct my intense train of thought from this side, and it should scatter it into component parts? And your mind will pick up on that? That's -- really odd, DiNozzo. I can't understand how you can get things like that."

"And I can't see how you aren't burned every time you focus on a case really hard, Boss," Tony said, trying not to be offended by the switch back to formal address. "That would burn out the synapses in my brain like," he snapped his fingers for emphasis, "that." He snorted, and sketched something else on the other side. "It'd have to catch the whole intensity. It almost needs a shredder. Not to shred the thoughts into nothing, but to shred the intensity that links the individual thoughts. I mean, you can show me your thought processes, but it hurts."

"I get it." Jethro paused, looking over at Tony. "Aww, Hell, Tony, I didn't mean..."

"Don't break your own rules, Boss." Tony grumbled. "That sounded suspiciously like an apology."

"Well, Rule 51 kinda applies, too." Gibbs began to sketch something on his own sheet of paper, this a graph paper with tiny squares.

"Whatcha doin, Jet?" Tony stood up, moving to the other side of the room to see what he was sketching. "Oh, nice. Yeah, the dreamcatcher's like that thing that Abby has up right over where she rolls out the futon. The circular thing with the netting. If the component parts of your thoughts get caught on that, maybe I can pick them off and make my own web with them?"

"And I'll have t' rearrange the parts of the 'train' until they make sense, but I do that anyway. Arrange, rearrange, shift. All the time."

"Yeah. I don't do that so much, because it sort of falls into place naturally. Maybe it'll do that once we get into the habit of shairng the information." He returned to one of their first questions. "I don't know where we'd put it. We had that wall of fire about here," he walked to where the divider had been. "Could we -- maybe make it big enough to fill the room? Or put something around it? Eventually, all the thoughts between us are gonna have to go through this thing." _Because, if I'm making you/him scream, or vice versa, I don't want to have to stop to point my crazy random thoughts through some hole._ He snorted, and let his mind go where it was going anyway. It wasn't like Jethro wouldn't catch all of the secondary and tertiary layers either way. _The only hole I want to be worrying about is the one getting or giving. I'm not particular._

Jethro's snort made Tony smile. "I don't want some huge monstrosity blockin' my view of you, even in a mental thing like this, Tone." He frowned. "Does it have t' be opaque? Could it just be clear? Then it could be as big as ya need it and I could still ogle your ass from this side of the room." He winked lasciviously, and Tony grinned. _I'm not particular either. I haven't done it before, so it'll take some gettin' used to, but with you/him bein' able to feel what works and what doesn't, dayum. Lookin' forward t' that. Let's get this figured out so I can screw you/him._

"After we finish this sleep." Tony's grin got a little bigger and they worked together trying to figure out a device that would do the trick without blocking their view of each other.


	10. Chapter 10

As usual, Jethro was the first to awaken, his mind stirring. He remembered to be sure to keep his thoughts directed toward the strange doohickey he knew was in the space between their minds. They'd spent a little bit of time 'field testing' the thing, and dammed if it didn’t work. He smiled, feeling relief at being able to process things as deeply as he needed to without worrying about hurting his lover. He looked at the chain of information coming through the thing to his side about DeRosas and Varellis and began rearranging it to his satisfaction. It was a pleasant exercise; the process of ordering information this way was one of the major reasons he stuck with solving cases like this. He could have gone on to be a simple mercenary or an ass-kisser like Jenny or Vance, but he loved the thrill of the chase, the pursuit of the puzzle. He rolled away from Tony, being sure to keep his leg angled to touch his lover's bare ass, and stuck his hands underneath his head and kept thinking.

Tony started to stir, and Jethro smiled, rolling to tuck himself tight against the younger man. _Mornin'_. His mind gently greeted Tony's, and his hand ran up and down the tall, naked body. _Sleep well?_

 _Oh, yeah. Kinda nice being able to dream properly again. Without all the pain._ Without even a mental warning, Tony rolled over, grasping Jethro's shoulders, angling his head again for a kiss. Jethro lowered his head, angling his head the other way and their lips met, soft and wet. _Fuuuck. Feels so good just to sit here and kiss you/me/us stupid._ Tony snickered, separating their lips and touching foreheads together. _I know what to do. You want to do it?_ His mind displayed the two of them intimately entwined, Tony pounding deep into Jethro's ass. _Doesn't have to be this way, just ..._ His voice sounded almost apologetic.

"Don't worry about it, Tone. I realize you're not doin' it that way on purpose." He grinned, mouthing Tony's cheek and nibbling down lower. _I'd love to. Whichever way we end up fuckin'. Want you. Want to feel you come again. That was the most amazing thing I've felt in my life._ He began licking lightly at Tony's nipples, his hands roaming gently over the man's chest, tugging at the hair there just enough to elicit the pleasure he knew he could.

Tony groaned, letting the thoughts deep in his mind run over the both of them in a steady stream of just _stuff._ Endearments, epithets, encouragements to keep going.... Jethro altered his movements to increase the pace and intensity of his thoughts, driving them both wild with need. _Boss, if you don't do something soon, I'm going to explode all over you, and we won't get to the good stuff._

Jethro snorted his amusement at being called 'Boss' in bed, and Tony grinned, a little red in his cheeks from the embarrasment. "S'alright, Tone. I know that's part of how you think of me. Just funny is all." He reached into the bedside table drawer and pulled out the bottle of lube, squirting a generous amount into his hands. "Alright, now if I remember right, I gotta run a finger in first..."

Tony demonstrated for him, showing him blatantly on the screen in their mindspace. _Hey, that's kinda nice to be able to do._ Both of them snickered lightly at the use of the bullpen to get knowledge like that from one mind to another, but it was what they had. Jethro followed the demonstrated procedure as closely as he could, twisting and pushing gently until he'd worked the man wide open.

 _Ya want a condom? I know you're clean, and I'm clean. Hell, we just got out of the damn hospital, surely they would have checked for that sort of crap while we were in there, and I've been solo since Hollis, and you've been solo since..._

 _EJ, and that wasn't much or very good._ Tony replied, grumpily. “Too damn long, Jethro. No. No condom. As you say, we’re both clean.” _Coulda thought that, but I wanted to say it out loud. Make sure he/you/we understood._

 _Gotcha love._ The endearment slipped out easily, and Jethro didn’t think much of it. He situated himself, making sure that Tony was ready, and slid in, barely breaching the ring of muscle. _Fuck/Ohgod you’re tight._

 _That feels good, Jet. Keep coming in. Please. Ohmyfuckinggod. Just keep coming in like that. More, please. More..._ Tony was reduced to his mindless comments again. Jethro didn’t mind. In fact, he felt smug about the whole thing. _Heh. Love you, old man._ A thought bubbled over from Tony’s side of the brain and Jethro grinned even more. He didn’t mind a bit that he could do this to his lover.

 _Lover, Partner, Husband... whatever you are. You’re mine. Do not forget that, Tony. You’re mine._ His mind kept repeating that over and over, as though the repetition would impress it more firmly on Tony that it was the truth. He slid further in, gently sliding in and out as he did, his slick cock fitting just perfectly. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he was seated completely, his heavy balls slapping against Tony’s ass. _Oh, god, babe. Feels so good._ He groaned his pleasure and thrust in more forcefully. After a cursory thrust or two, he waited, wanting Tony to be ready before he really slammed into him.

 _Move, Gibbs. Just fucking move already._ Tony’s mind demanded of his after a few minutes, and he felt this compulsion to do exactly that. He pulled almost completely out, and with a grunt, slammed back in, adjsuting slightly so that the end of his cock would slam right directly against Tony’s prostate. He’d found it while stretching him out, and it felt amazing when stimulated.

 _You’ll have to do this to me. See how it feels from my side. I mean, you’ve got the whole tightness thing going on around my cock, but I can feel you, too. Can feel myself touching your sweet spot, slamming into it..._ His thoughts stuttered as he shuddered through the pleasure. Between the two connected sources of raw pleasure, it was almost too much for one mind to handle. Small tendrils of thought, or even the very synapses of his mind began reaching across the barrier, transforming as they passed by the converter doohickey. They reached out, grasping ahold of the synapses that were there drawing toward him, and joined, making a strong bridge between the two minds. With the spiraling pleasure, both minds worked in tandem, Tony’s mind rushing hither and yon, dispersing the endorphins among the different parts of their minds easily. Jethro’s strong, singular thoughts corralled most of the sensation, releasing it in short bursts, letting Tony’s mind disperse it more effectively.

Thoughts now passed through the barrier easily without a hesitation or focus at all. Each caught the most basic levels of thought from the other man, gently sharing the deepest thoughts, desires and fears of their hearts with complete and utter ease. Neither man noticed this blatantly; both were too engrossed in the physical pleasure spiraling around inside their minds, ratcheting around and intensifying as Jethro kept slamming into Tony, keeping them on edge for a long time before he finally just gave up, hitting the spot every single time, and pushing them both over the edge. With a loud scream, both of them came at the same time, each grasping the other’s shoulders, Tony pulling Jethro down on top of him, affixing his mouth to his and sucking all of the air out of his lungs with an intensity that shocked both of them. They lay there, clinging together for several minutes before Jethro moved.

 _Gotta piss._ Jethro grinned, pulling himself gently out of his lover. _Want to stay there all fucking day. Don’t want to move, but need t’ piss._ He stood up, stretching, feeling the burn of his muscles in a whole new way. He seemed to have more energy, somehow. _Somethin’ happened while we fucked, I think. Don’t know what it was. I sorta did somethin’ and you/he did somethin’ and now it’s like ..._ His mind cut off as he released his stream of urine into the toilet.

Tony groaned his pleasure. “I see what you mean, Boss. It’s like I can feel how damn good it feels to pee. Even though I don’t need to. And when you stretched, my muscles burned a little. Not my own, but more like a sympathy pain. Kind of like I imagine phantom pains being.” _I think fucking connected our minds fully. I wonder how long we can be apart now. Don’t want to test it just yet, because I need that skin next to mine -- need to clean up my ass and my dick, too. Got spunk all over me..._ Tony’s mind rambled, but Jethro wasn’t annoyed. It was like a low hum of background noise. He could tune in to it, or ignore it at will, without really thinking about it. It gave him a clue as to the state of Tony’s mind. He grabbed a wet washcloth and cleaned up Tony’s ass and dick carefully, feeling the warmth of the cloth against Tony’s skin as if it were his own. _Oh, Jet. You’ve got to try some of my more expensive clothing. There’s a reason I spend what I do on it._ And Jethro could see how much Tony paid for each piece, where he got it, why he bought it, how he mixed and matched pieces to make it look like he really owned more suits than he actually did -- all that information came streaming through the links as easily as if they were his own thoughts. They were slipping into a thick, solid mass of pieces as they passed across the line; the converter thing seemed to be doing its job without any real effort on their part. _Boss..._ Tony’s thought began.

 _We’re gonna be unstoppable, baby._ Gibbs’ mind ended it. _With your wide-reaching net and my rearrangin’ everything into lines..._ He grinned, tossing the washcloth into the hamper before crawling back into bed. _We’re gonna get this guy and any others. And it’s gonna be great._ He slid his leg between Tony’s legs, insinuating himself as close to the other man as he possibly could, then he kissed him until he felt Tony’s lungs scream for air. He pulled away unwillingly, opening his mouth to Tony’s questing tongue when the other man followed him back, returning the favor. They kissed and stroked like teenagers for what seemed like hours before falling back to sleep, limbs still entwined.

* * *

 

They awoke slowly, limbs still entangled together. Tony’s stomach rumbled, and Jethro laughed at the sound.

 _Can feel that, Tone._ Tony could feel the intensity of the thought, but when it hit the space between them, it scattered into a myriad little pieces, each something his mind could process separately and make a net with. He sighed happily, snuggling closer to his lover. _C’mon, brat. Let’s go down and see what we’ve got to eat._

 _Brat? Who are you calling a brat, Boss?_ Tony found the endearment kind of appropriate, though he felt like he had to give some sort of token protest. _Doesn’t make much sense to complain too loudly when you can hear how funny I think it is that you think I’m a brat. What food do we have in the house? Is any of it still good? I know I saw a couple cans of soup in the corner pantry the other day. Did you/he eat those already? Because that’d be alright. Pizza would be okay, but ... why didn’t you/he tell me that the red sauce gives you/me/us heartburn?_ He paused in his thoughts, turning toward Jethro. “This is the kind of thing you’ve got to tell me now. Well, technically you don’t have to tell me, but I _will_ find out, alright, so if you have a preference in stuff like this... I’m not the only one who’s been just letting it slide. Is that why you didn’t eat that Indian that time?”

 _Oh, god. That Indian. Fornell knows how much my stomach can’t handle, and he always manages to find something that straddles the line. Damn fool. Tryin’ t’ play one-upmanship. Good thing I had stocked up on circle-Os._ “The cereal sat better on my stomach. Suppose Burley’s not the only one the job’s given stomach issues to. Doc says it’s not an ulcer, but might develop into one if I don’t eat right. So, I’ve been slackin’ on the tomato sauce and spicy food a little. But you love your damn pizza so much, I couldn’t tell you no when you brought it over.”

 _Fuck._ Tony swore vehemently. _No more. I’ll order you your own damn pizza if that’s what it takes, or something entirely different. Nonna Mia’s sells this really good pasta with the white sauce that I think you’ll like a lot. It’s not spicy but it’s really full of flavor. Nonna Mia’s is really good, Boss. I think you’ll like it._ Tony was already planning how to order it in when he got the mental equivalent of a headslap. _Ouch! What was that for?_

 _Let’s go downstairs and see what we’ve got first. I don’t mind gettin’ that someday, but let’s wait until we’re not so handsy. I wanna stay right here and stay as naked and as close as I possibly can, Tony, and I don’t wanna do that and deal with a teenaged delivery boy._ He ran his hands over Tony’s body again, the sensation making Tony purr in satisfaction.

 _Damn, that feels good. Okay, that makes sense. I’m gonna put on a pair of shorts, though, because I’ll feel better if I’ve got somethin’ on my ass, especially if we’re going to be cooking. I can cook, Boss. I don’t go out as much as I make it seem like I do._ He was mentally running through lists of easy dishes to make while he stretched again, starting to stand up and put his shorts on. _C’mon, Boss, I’m hungry!_ Tony’s mind-voice sounded petulant, even to his own ears. Jethro just laughed at him before they headed downstairs to see what they had in the pantry.

The whole time they cooked and ate, they were near each other but not touching, and neither really noticed the change.

* * *

 

Captain Jason Varelli sat in his buddy’s apartment, staring out the window at the skyline. “Fuckin’ crazy. I mean, Pops wanted me to get the guy. Told me if I did that, he’d leave me alone for a while.” He knew that it wouldn’t be that long, but even ‘a while’ from his father was a pretty good deal. “Then, I pop the wrong guy, and it sounds like they raided my place. And on top of that, sprung the powder trap. I’m screwed, Mads. I’m fuckin’ screwed.”

“Well, of course you are, loser.” Daniel Madkins replied, sipping at his beer. “You were screwed when you decided to shed your poppa’s name for your momma’s. Don’t know why you didn’t just stay put and get RIF’d like a good little soldier.”

“Fuck that,” Jason replied, taking a huge swig of his own beer, then wiping his hand across his face to catch the inevitable drip. “Not takin’ it from the man layin’down, Mads. Only man I’ll take that from is my Grandpop, and even he’s not doin’ that shit.” He set his beer down, and stood up, gazing out toward the New York side of the river. “Wish I could go back over there. But I can’t. If they’ve got the powder, then it’s probably killed some feds... hopefully it was those CID whack jobs. Or, Feebs. Either way.”

Mads looked at Jason askance. Jason knew what the other man was thinking. But he’d been raised in _La Famigla_ where life was cheaper than honor. It sounded cold as hell, and probably was, but it was how it was. “You can stay here, Jase, but I don’t know how long it’ll be safe. If it _was_ one of those CID bastards, then it’s not gonna be long until they tumble to our link, and come hit here. I could stall ‘em, but I’m not gonna outright lie. More’n my life’s worth, Eddy-boy.” He frowned, and Jason caught the expression in the reflection of the window. “You sure the stuff would kill them? You said you were trying to do... what exactly?”

“Well, it’ll kill ‘em eventually, I figure. The rats we tried it on clawed each other’s eyes out. We weren’t sure exactly what the effects would be on humans. It did something to their brains. But if they sprung the trap and inhaled it, it was gonna be some serious pain, that’s for sure. It’d make any pain we’d endured look like snuggles in comparison. I think the rats mighta been killin’ each other for mercy. We were actually tryin’ to get people to be able to link up. Colonel figured we’d be able to create a means to link up squads mentally so we wouldn’t need radios. It’s been a dream since ‘War of the Worlds’ aired on the radio all those years ago.”

“Damn, that’s cold, Jase. I hope they died then. I’d rather not see two Feebs clawing each other apart. I’m not squeamish, man, but that’s just...” Jason watched Mads’ reflection shudder. “Yeah, that might be good. Except it would probably alter their brains so much they’d either go batshit insane from listening to everyone, or they’d be a squad for life. Hate to be linked up like that and have a buddy get shot. Someone didn’t think that shit through thoroughly. Was bad enough to have to hold the man’s hand as he’s bleeding out on the ground and screaming into the radio for a medic.”

“We wouldn’t have done it broad scale unless we had some way of shutting it off. We found a couple pairs of lovers that were interested in trying the shit to heighten the experience of their love lives. Woulda been the perfect starting point. Won’t ever know now.” Jase stepped back, grabbed his beer and looked down into the bottle, swirled it around, and drained it.

As he was talking, he didn’t notice the pensive look on his friend’s face. If he did, he might not have sat back down and reached for another beer.


	11. Chapter 11

Captain Daniel Madkins stepped outside on the pretense of smoking a cigarette. He had picked up the habit ‘over there’, but only smoked occasionally. To lend credence to his story -- and because this made him fucking nervous -- he lit one up anyway, taking a long drag on it before dialing a number. “Colonel, I’m sorry to bother you sir, but you said to call you if we ever were in trouble, and sir, I think this constitutes trouble.”

The man on the other end of the line responded. “Good call, Madkins, what’s on your mind, son?” He sounded tired, and Madkins looked down at his watch. _Shit. Hadn’t realized it was that late._ “Are you in personal danger? Do I need to come up there and help you out?”

“Nossir,” Mads replied, taking another drag on his cigarette. “I just need the name of the CID officer who’s looking for Captain Eddison. He’s here right now, sir, and he’s talkin’ shit. Sorry, sir, but it’s the God’s honest truth. I gotta make this fast. Maybe have the guy -- or whoever -- call when they get the message. I gotta be real careful. He says he thinks he might’ve killed a couple CEEDs or some Feebs or somethin’. Somethin’ about them clawing their eyes out because of some of the powder he worked on over at Dietrich.” He spoke quickly, and glanced around. “Hope I didn’t wake you up, sir. I just wasn’t sure who else to call, and I wasn’t thinkin’ of what time it was.”

“Damn, son. I’ll pass that information along. You think you can keep him there, soldier?” Colonel Hitchko sounded more awake now. “And don’t worry about the time of day. When I said ‘day or night’, I meant it. I’ll let ‘em know you might sound like you’re talkin’ to... what’s her name? That young lady you’ve been seein’?”

Mads blushed at his Colonel’s words. “Annie, sir. That’d be a great help. I appreciate it. Thank you sir. Have a good evening, and I’ll let you know how this turns out.”

“Outstanding.” The Colonel sounded pleased with his last addendum. “You do your best to have a good evening too. If it comes to it, don’t play hero. Just get outta there. Might be enough of a lead to get him. Those CEED guys are pretty good these days.”

“Yessir.” Mads grinned, feeling much better about the situation. “Goodnight, sir.” He hung up, keeping a look around, then on a whim, he called Annie. “Hey, babe. Can I ask you a favor?”

“Depends, Mads, is it gonna cost me money this time?” Mads grinned even wider at the sound of his girl’s voice. He knew she was just teasing.

“No, actually, just needed to talk to you for a few minutes. I might have a guy calling you in a while to ask if I talked to you. Except I probably won’t have. He won’t be able to get ahold of my phone, I hope, but if he does, I’m screwed. One of my army buddies is in trouble, and I’m trying to fix it.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can do that. If you want, if you want me to call you at a certain time, text me or whatever, and I can even call, so it’s on the list.” She sounded like she was intrigued with the idea. She’d always liked the sneaky part of his training.

“It’s not an op, baby. Just helping a friend out.” He chuckled, taking another drag on his cigarette.

“Alright, whatever you say, Danny.” She made kissy noises into the phone. “Bye, honey.” He shook his head, finished his cigarette and headed inside.

“Hey, Jase. Want another beer?” He pulled one out, and started the waiting game.

* * *

 

The remnants of the MCRT, Balboa’s team, and a couple other agents piled out of the blue sedans. It had been a long trip to New Jersey, but it was worth it. They had to move on the intel they had. Tim sighed, strapping on his vest and checking his mic again. “Fornell, Ham, can you hear me?” The three agencies had decided to work together. Each one had a strong vested interest in keeping their hand in on this case. Fornell needed the collar to take down one of the Mafia dons, Ham needed to be involved to deal with the USAMRIID stuff, and the MCRT needed to deal with the man who had messed with their own and killed the Marine on Ducky’s table. Even if it had been a mistake.

“Roger, McGee.” Ham’s no nonsense voice echoed back. Tim was finding himself drawn to the older man more and more. He definitely liked him better than he liked Col. Mann. He snorted. The boss was right. There was something different about him, and even how they referred to him showed it.

Fornell’s voice crackled in his ear again. “Settle down, Tim. The mics work. Now, remember the plan. Eddison is well-trained, and might have more of that damn powder on him, so be careful, watch his hands, and keep your masks on.” They’d all put on basic masks, hoping that if he did release some weird chemical agent into the air, the masks would at least prevent them from being too exposed for a while.

“Got it. Okay, David, Balboa, let’s get into position.” He finished gearing up and headed to where the man had indicated. Their informer, the friend from Command School, had told them exactly how to come in. He was going to be trying to keep Eddison occupied, then he’d make himself scarce. It sounded like he had a girlfriend who said she’d help with that. _That’s definitely a good excuse,_ Tim thought.

“Got it, McGee,” Ziva replied, and Balboa replied similarly. They were ready to go.

There were too many agents for everyone to walk up the stairs at the same time, so Tim, Ziva, Ham and his assistant Clint -- he thought he remembered the young Lieutenant’s name right -- Fornell and Sacks headed up the stairs while the rest of their teams spread out aroud the complex, keeping people out of the line of fire and preparing for Eddison's possible escape routes. Fornell's voice sounded in his ear. Since he'd been on the case the longest, Ham had graciously given him supreme lead for the takedown, and McGee could see no problem with it. "Flashbang in three, two, one..." They all closed their eyes and covered their ears. When the flashbang had flashed, they listened, and heard the man's voice.

"What was that? Mads? What was that?" Eddison sounded groggy.

"I dunno, man. It sounded like a mortar round. I'll step out and see what's going on. You stay put. That hangover's not gonna do you any favors if something comes up. Just let me take care of it." Tim snorted, and the others surrounding him gave knowing grins. Madkins stepped outside. A young, blonde man with childlike features stood before them. Tim wouldn't have guessed he was a soldier if he hadn't seen his eyes. Working with NCIS for years, Tim had seen a lot of expressions. One of the most common was of the man who'd been fighting a battle for a long time. Daniel Madkins wore it now. "Oh, good. It's you," he whispered. He turned and yelled toward the door. "It's some takedown next door, Jase. Just our luck. Go back to sleep. I'm going to make sure Annie is okay."

"Fuckin' cops." Eddison grumbled, but he didn't say anything more.

Madkins snorted. "I got him soused with the good stuff last night." He looked around. "Which one of you is Smith?" He shook his head at the name, then turned toward Ham when all of them pointed to him. "Thanks, man. I owe you one, and Colonel Hitchko owes you one, too, probably." He grinned. "I'm going to go check on Annie, like I said. Probably take her up to my mom until this whole thing blows over. Gonna propose to her soon anyway."

"Good job son." Ham replied. "Don't worry about owin' me anything. This is my job. We'll wait a few until he's asleep and disoriented, and then go on in. Any other ways out of your apartment?"

"Only through the glass door to the balcony, but there's no fire escape or anything. And being on the sixth floor, I would hope he wouldn't jump. But he's just that cold right now. So, I'd stick someone down there, just in case." Madkins saluted Ham, took the salute from Clint, and moved along, passing through the line of federal agents without much fuss.

"Get that? Balboa, you and Thompson, grab a couple of the Bureau guys and wait down below. I don't foresee a problem, but I think we should at least be prepared for the eventuality that it could happen." Tim spoke into his microphone, and the other two agency leads did the same.

"Has it been long enough, do you think?" Ziva interjected, not raising her voice above a whisper. "We want to make sure he's sleeping like a hog, correct?"

"Log, Ziva, but yes." He grinned. "If he's got a hangover like Madkins was saying, then, he probably fell right back to sleep. Remember when Tony ..." Fornell cut him off.

"We get the point, McGee. You think he's back out? Let's wait a couple more minutes to be sure, and then we'll go in quietly. You think you can do that?"

"I can be so quiet you won't notice until you see your own picture on my screen." Tim couldn't resist the jibe, and noticed that it hit home.

"Cute." That was all Fornell said, and then they fell silent. Madkins had left the door unlocked, so they didn't even need to have Ziva pick the lock. Quiet as whispers, the six agents moved, finding Jason quickly. He was sprawled out on the couch with his arm across his eyes.

Ziva and Tim locked eyes, and remembered a time they had sneaked up on Tony and captured him while he was 'meditating' in his chair. _Meditating, my ass._ Tim nodded to Eddison's feet, and he positioned himself over the man's arms. He mouthed a countdown, just as they had then. "Three, two, one..." They moved in tandem, Ziva grasped Eddison's legs in a tight hold. When he automatically sat up to see who had grabbed his legs, Tim moved. He reached forward, grasping the man's arms and twisting them back behind him. Fornell and Ham stood on either side of the couch, their guns drawn.

"What the hell!? Mads! Mads! Fuckin'..." He tried to move, but Ziva held him fast.

"I'm here to read you your Article 32 rights under the UCMJ." Ham began, reciting the words by rote. When he had finished Jason's rights, he continued. "And my friend Tobias here would like to have a few words with you on a pertinent case he is involved in. Not to mention the young lady and gentleman from NCIS who wish to speak to you on the manner of... how did Agent DiNozzo phrase it? Ah, yes. 'The wrong Valentino'." Tim snorted at Ham's dramatics, but stayed behind the man. He saw Eddison's shoulders slump when Ham made his final comment for the moment. "And the attempted murder of two of their best agents."

Tim cuffed him and stepped away. It was the easiest takedown they'd had in a long time.

* * *

 

Ham frowned as he pulled up to the Virginia home. It looked like it'd been through a war. Slowly but surely, it was being repaired, he could tell, but the owner was a busy man. _That made sense_ , he thought, with what he knew of Gibbs. The man was extremely skilled with his hands -- Hollis had put that in her official dossier, though he assumed she left the _other_ pertinent skills out of the official paperwork, if the buzz was correct. He rolled his eyes at his uncharitable thoughts, and got out of his car, straightening his uniform just a little before knocking on the door.

"Door's open, Smith, come on in." Now _that_ voice sounded like the man his predecessor had mentioned. He snorted and opened up the door, stepping inside. Two men sat on the couch, blatantly holding hands. Gibbs gestured to the chair nearby, and rolled his eyes at something. The other man grinned widely.

"Agent Gibbs, Agent DiNozzo. It's nice to finally meet you. Well, I saw you once, Gibbs, but it was a while ago." To his surprise, the younger man answered.

"Eh, it wasn't that long ago, was it, Jet? About a year? After the thing with..." His voice trailed off, but he got the distinct impression that the sentence had continued.

"There-abouts, yeah." Gibbs replied easily. "Listen, Smith..." Ham cut him off.

"Call me 'Ham', Agent Gibbs."

"Then call me 'Gibbs', or Jethro." Ham nodded. He could do that. "Alright. _Ham_ ," there was a little bit of insouciance in the tone that he might have expected from DiNozzo, "I don't know what t' tell you. Whether t' tell you the truth and shock the hell outta you, or give you some cock-and-bull story that you can put on the record and keep your job. Because this stuff..." He paused again, and almost flawlessly, the younger man took up the narrative.

"I'm a movie buff, Ham, and I've seen about every movie ever made. Well, I missed that one..." He winced as though struck. "Boss. That hurt. Cut it out. That one was pretty strong. Couple more like that, and I'm gonna put the wall back up, pain or not." This must have meant something to the older man, because he winced, and turned to face DiNozzo. There was a couple moments of silence, and Ham saw Gibbs run his thumb down the other man's finger. "As I was saying, though, I've never seen a plot in a movie like this. There have been several B movies that tried to come close, I think, but this really is scary, especially for people as private as Jet and I are." He paused, then looked over at Gibbs again. "You can call me Tony, by the way." He frowned. "Do you want a beer or something? He's got beer, water, of course, um..." He trailed off again, and it really looked like the two of them were talking.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, though." Ham replied, before the man could list everything in Gibbs' fridge. "Why don't we do both? You can tell me the real story, and if I think it's too much bullshit for the brass, I'll make something up. I'll let you know, though, if no one else has yet, that we do have Eddison -- the guy you knew as Varelli -- and he will probably tell us what he was trying to do. If we can get him to talk. If not, we'll just bump up the chain to his USAMRIID superiors, and see what he was working on when he was RIF'd." Ham set his hands in his lap, interlocking his fingers, waiting for the two men to talk.

Both men were silent for a long time. Ham expected them to move, to go talk this over, or at least whisper in each other's ear. Apart from a couple snorts of amusement from both of them, they kept the eerie quiet until Tony said, "You're sure, Boss? Alright." He grinned. "Okay. This is how it is. It's like a science fiction show. McGeek would be able to tell you better about the sci-fi stuff. He's more of a buff of that genre than I am. But, as far as I can tell, it's linked us mentally. We haven't figured out how to separate either physically or mentally. When we breathed in the powder, it created a link between our minds. Kind of like ... well, that love potion stuff from Harry Potter, except minds instead of hearts, and it was two-way." Ham vaguely remembered his daughter mentioning something from those books. He'd ask her later about the love potion stuff. The girl was a huge fan. He quieted his thoughts and let Tony continue.

"We think very differently, Ham. I'm a wide-range thinker. Jet considers it like a net. You know guys like this, if you're not one yourself. We take all sorts of random connections, and instead of trying to piece them into one big long string of whatever..." He grinned, pausing long enough to send a dopey-eyed look at his boss. "Instead of making one long string of causes and effects, or timelines, or whatever, we just leave them in this net and the connections between them are fluid. Now, Jethro here is a straight-line thinker. His thoughts are A leads to B leads to C..." He shrugs. "I don't understand it because I don't think that way. Some people say right brained versus left brained, or whatever. I read a book about it when I was in college, because I wanted to understand why I wasn't getting what this one teacher was saying." He paused again, laughing outright. "Yeah. Exactly." He didn't seem to think the non-sequitor was strange, but Ham just looked at him, raising his eyebrows.

"We were having difficulty keeping our minds together, but when we would pull apart, we'd be in so much pain... how'd you describe it to Vance, Boss? Like pulling ductape off your pubic hair only inside your head and stronger?" Ham winced at the description. "Worst pain we've ever felt. And Jet's been in two explosions, shot several times in the Corps, and other things. I've had enough concussions that I probably hold the record for most in a year and total in the agency. I know I did in Peoria and Philly. Guy had me beat in Baltimore." He grinned again, and paused, as though something were dragging him back on task. "Anyway, we found a way around that, but before we did, we discovered that if we were physically -- intimate, the length of time we were able to stop touching doubled. Not that it was any significant change. It went from five minutes to ten."

He frowned, and shifted in his seat. "It wasn't an issue for us, because I've been carrying a torch for him for years, and he's -- kinda warmed up to me himself. I thought it'd never be possible, of course, since I'm a non-redheaded male..." He laughed, and reached up to rub the back of his head. "That one was a neat trick, Boss. That one worked." Another grin, and he continued. "On it, Boss. The moral of the story is that it's a damn good thing that the powder hit the two of us and not another pair of agents. If we couldn't deal with each other, if we didn't have this good relationship already -- I mean, I anticipate him. I have been doing so for ten years. If I couldn't do that, Ham, we'd've been screwed. We'd have shot each other pretty damn quick. Or he'd have shot me, and then, I don't know what he'd have done to himself. It wouldn't have been pretty."

Ham tried to process everything the man had said. "So, if I'm hearin' this straight..." He scratched at his temple, piecing the parts into the long chain of thought that Tony had mentioned the older man used. It was a good analogy of his way of solving cases. "If I'm gettin' this, you two can hear each other's thoughts. Before this," he continued, gesturing to their joined hands, "you could only step away from each other for about five minutes? Then when you started letting yourselves get physically involved with each other, it raised it to ten. How did you solve the issue with your different thinking styles? I think that would hurt almost as bad as the separation."

"Did." Gibbs responded. "Damn near gave me a migraine. Was Palmer that figured it out. Surprised the hell outta me. But he was gettin' his car fixed. You know those damn converters that the old jeeps had and they'd break about every four months or so, and the motorpool guys would use 'em for the middle of the still when they did?"

"Oh, right. The catalytic converters." Ham nodded. "Yeah. I knew a guy who made a whole sculpture out of the damn things. Worst idea they ever had. I mean, it kept the jeeps from smokin' and smellin' funny in Indian Country, but ..." He shook his head. "Not sure it was worth the time or money they put into it."

"That's the Corps," Gibbs replied, and then added as though he'd been reminded that Ham wasn't a fellow Marine. "And the Army, too, so I hear." He snorted.

"Oh, yeah. The right way, the wrong way, and the Army way." Ham grinned. "One of the first things you learn in Basic."

"Yup. Kid mentioned his converter issues, and Tony seized on the idea. We kinda built a similar contraption in the mindspace between us. Shreds my long train of thought into the pieces, and takes his pieces and puts them into a long train again. Gettin' better at rearrangin' things more easily, but it's gonna take some retrainin'." He shrugged, and Tony shifted again, lowering his head to rest on the man's shoulder. Gibbs leaned into the touch, clearly content. "Wish we could help interrogate the bastard, but I'm not riskin' bein' apart from Tony for that long."

"I completely understand. And you've had doctors looking at this, I assume." Ham had heard that Mallard and DiNozzo's doctor were both looking into it, but he wanted to hear it from their mouths.

"Yeah. Pitt's called us about five times today, I think. 'Bout t' risk it and go over there and tell him t' give us a chance t' rest." Gibbs rolled his eyes, and shook his head, probably at some comment from the younger man.

Ham snorted. "Dr. Pitt? I'm not sure I've heard of him."

"Doctor Brad Pitt -- no lie -- is a pulminologist at Bethesda. He's been my personal physician since my bout with the Pneumonic Plague. Yes. The Black Death herself." Tony must have been responding to the disbelief Ham knew showed on his face.

"The plague?" Ham couldn't help asking incredulously.

"Yeah. The goddamned plague." Gibbs was the one to respond, and he tightened the grip on his lover's hand. "Ordered him not to die. I think that's the only reason he didn't. Only had about a 15% chance to live. Whackjob woman thought we'd messed up her daughter's life." Gibbs shook his head again. "Y' got what ya need, Ham?"

"I do," he replied, considering what they told him. "I think if I look into the projects that Eddison was working on at Dietrick and we find a ringer for this, we can bring him down hard. Not just for the attack on you, which according to what we think, will be attempted murder, but for a couple other things too. Stealing from the Army, and your buddy Fornell wants him for his family connections."

"I'll just bet he does," DiNozzo replied, the rest of his comment lost as he whispered furiously. Ham couldn't be certain, but it sounded like it was in Italian anyway.

"Would you mind if I verified this with your Ducky and Doctor Pitt?" He snorted, and made the comment he knew Tony was expecting. "Hell of a name to saddle on a kid, huh?"

Tony grinned, his mood as mercurial as the weather. "Oh, yeah. In his mom's defense, though, when he was little, the other guy wasn't famous. So, it's more of an unfortunate coincidence than anything. As much as we don't believe in 'em." He added this last part, and Ham knew it was a joke or inside reference, because the corners of Gibbs' eyes crinkled just so, just like his old CO's used to when he was trying not to smile.

"Go ahead. Thanks for askin'. Lot of this stuff's bein' decided without our input, and ... " Gibbs leaned his head forward a bit, a sure sign he was uncomfortable with not being involved with finding the perp who'd done this to him.

"I understand completely. You guys get this thing all figured out, and we'll let you talk to him yourself." Ham grinned ferally, and both men's expressions mirrored the sentiment. He knew fellow hunters when he saw them. "It was good talkin' to y'all, gentlemen." He stood, straightened his uniform again, and strode over to shake their hands. Both men shook his hand in turn, though it seemed they were loathe to let go of each other. If they were right about the level of pain the separation caused, he could completely understand. The secondary thought that seemed to overlay that was one that he'd have to take some time to think about. _If I just got a new woman, I wouldn't want to let her go, either._ He made his greetings, left his card for them, got one from each of them, and went back out to his car, thinking hard about what he'd learned, and what it meant about his Army, the USAMRIID, and Captain Eddison.


	12. Chapter 12

Ham stepped out the door and Tony stood up to lock it. He moved back toward his seat, fully entangling himself around his lover again. "I'm serious, Jet. That first 'headslap', or whatever you wanna call it, hurt like hell. Didn't you feel it?"

"Yeah, Tone. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to hurt like that. C'mere." Jethro slid his hands underneath Tony's shirt, and Tony shuddered at the familiar pleasure. It had only been a couple of days, but they were getting so used to each other that they weren't sure where one stopped and the other began. "Here or upstairs?" He voiced the question Tony had been wondering about for a while. "I want you again."

"Here's fine," Tony shuddered out, shucking his shirt with ease. They'd dressed for the man's visit, of course, but now that he was gone, Tony wanted to be naked again. _Can I fuck you this time?_ Tony's mind asked before he could really think about it. _I want you to feel how good it is from that side, and I want to feel what you were talking about..._ He looked over at Jethro who had taken off his own shirt and returned his hands to Tony's skin.

 _Could do, yeah. Think you can reach me on here? Or would we be better up in the bed?_ Tony had to think about it, letting the possibilities pass through his mind with their branching motions. He could feel Jet's interest in the process, a sort of guarded curiosity that Tony had always admired in the older man.

 _If you can lay just so_ , he thought, showing the picture on the monitor, _I think I can make it work here. If you want more room to spread out, we'll go upstairs. Your call, Boss._ He cringed internally, hating the fact that he was so used to deferring to Jet that he did it automatically. He knew why he did it, but he still wished it didn't sound so infantile.

He winced as Jethro applied another mental headslap. "Cut that shit out, Tony." _Might not be the most macho thing in the world to do, but I kinda like it. You've always taken good care of me. Better than I take of myself at times._ Tony could tell the last part was deeper, more resonant than the rest, and he smiled. "Here's fine." Jethro answered his question audibly.

Tony stood up to pull off his sweats, and Jethro did the same. Jet lay out on the couch in the position Tony had suggested. It made the breath catch in his throat, and he couldn't help the thoughts that crossed his mind at the sight of his naked lover. _Oh. You are so beautiful. I know normally guys don't use that word on other guys or at least I've never heard it, but damn. You're beautiful, lover._ His mind kept supplying adjectives, as it always did, except this time, the object of his affections was listening. The words were affecting Jethro, apparently, because he could see slight bits of pink in his cheeks. He smiled again, moving down to settle himself between Jethro's legs, then lowered himself to kiss him slowly. The pleasure began spiraling between them again as it did every time they touched. Tony was convinced that it wasn't a side effect of the drug in and of itself; it was an effect of both men's minds experiencing that much pleasure at the same time. Somewhere, in a deeper register than they usually concentrated on, Jethro agreed with him.

They kissed languidly for a few minutes, and then Tony pulled away, reaching for the lube he'd stashed in the pocket of his sweats. "Was hoping to do this again. I wasn't sure where or when..." One of them, Tony wasn't quite sure which one, originated the thought, _Always anticipate_. Before the originator had finished the thought, the other man had echoed the sentiment, making a stereophonic thought that seemed to echo a little more loudly through their shared mindspace. One small portion of Tony's mind focused on the phenomenon while the bulk of his thoughts remained on what he was doing. He stretched Jethro's anus slowly and completely, spending time twisting his fingers to find exactly where the spot was that he wanted to hit. He felt it before Jethro could react, shuddering with the pleasure inside his mind. His cock hardened even more, and he finished the process, slicking himself up. _You ready, Jet?_ He grinned, leaning over to kiss his lover again as he lined himself up to slide in.

 _Yup. C'mon. See what it's like._ Tony could feel that curiosity from before increasing, and he knew that Jethro wanted to experience this as much as he did. _Course, dumbass_ , Jethro replied to the thought.

 _I am not a dumbass_ , Tony teased, sliding in, noting how it felt. He held himself still while he felt Jethro's body adjusting to the intrusion. He felt the muscles relax around him, and just before his man could complain about him moving too slowly, he eased himself inside a little more. He kept doing it that way until he was fully seated, then remained still, just enjoying the tightness around his dick and the feeling he was getting across the link of his dick inside Jethro. _That's fuckin' amazing._ He shook his head, still processing how this could be happening this way, and then, just as he felt an annoyance build that wasn't his own, he pulled out about halfway, and thrust back in, trying to find Jet's sweet spot.

 _There it is, Tony. Feel that._ And feel it, Tony did. He almost stopped moving, but something kept him going, and he increased the pace again. Jet was right. This was an amazing experience. He'd felt the flip side, which had been just as good, but this was somehow _different_. Another small part of his mind considered which way he preferred. He was undecided. _Kinda weird all the random shit you think about almost constantly..._ Jethro replied to his mind's parceling out of information.

 _Yeah. I hadn't noticed it that much until I saw how you deal with stray thoughts._ He continued to thrust, increasing the pace just so, shifting angles when necessary to keep it just exactly so. _You have a tendency to get a stray thought, deal with it -- file it or trash it -- and then return to whatever's in the forefront of your thoughts. I can't do that shit. It's too intense._ He shuddered, only partially in memory of the intensity of his lover's regard. The pleasure stole all the trains of his thought for a second, and he felt the fusion between their minds intensify. Aware of it this time, he allowed a small strand of his ever-moving thoughts to watch it dispassionately, hoping he'd be able to remember it later to talk to Jet about. It was kind of weird. It was like their connection and the shared pleasure overloading their systems was making them connect even more deeply than they already had.

He had a feeling he'd have to be having sex of some sort with Jethro for the rest of his life. _That's definitely a less evil outcome than that bastard intended._ That was his primary layer of thought, at least the little bit of his mind that was still whirring. The second layer was deeper, of course, and it was tender. Tony didn't know it was there until he heard himself express it to Jethro directly mind-to-mind. _In fact, it's a fucking dream come true. I never thought I'd get to be here with you/him, and I love you/him so much it hurts._ Those may not have been the specific words, but the sentiment was exactly that. It was so intense he paused in his thrusts, knowing Jethro knew exactly why he stopped. 

_I love you. Not just because I'm connected wholly and completely to you at the very basic level. Not just because you've been the most intense, the most professional, the most amazing boss I've ever worked for. Not just because I've had a hard-on for those baby blues since I knocked you on your ass. No, this is something else. Something I've never felt..._ He felt the reciprocation of his feelings, and an echo of an older strand of feeling that was very similar. It was flavored different, like putting caramel creamer in his coffee instead of his favorite hazelnut. He began thrusting again and slowly pulled on the strand of feeling. It opened up a flood of memories of Jethro looking down on a naked woman, her belly rounded with child, his hands moving across her body proprietorially.

 _Oh, Shan,_ Jethro's mind immediately cried. Tony felt the intensity and the beauty in the memories, and felt the deep, abiding pain laced through every one. _I'm sorry Tone. I never meant for you to see those. Or to know how fucking much it hurt._ Jethro's eyes were shiny, but his face was hard, etched with the grief he'd seen from time to time when a case got too close or when he was reminded of his family suddenly.

 _I'm the one who's sorry, babe,_ Tony replied, pausing altogether, and lowering himself to hold his lover close. _I shouldn't have pushed._ He sighed, tightening his grip around Jethro's shoulders. He lowered his head down to Jet's neck, snuggling in as tightly as he could. _I feel like I should just melt here, Jethro. Soak up that pain, and take it away. Can you let the pain go? Share her with me? I know it's not the normal way of things, but I don't know how else I/we am/are going to survive if we don't get through this._ As Tony's thought leaked out, a few of his more painful memories slipped through, and he winced as he felt Jethro looking carefully through each one.

 _Don't know that I can right now, Tony._ Jethro's mind recoiled sharply from the idea, and Tony nodded, intentionally pushing the emotions aside, burying the disappointment and hurt deep. He'd defer again. It's what he did. He tried to do it quietly so that Jethro wouldn't notice, and set about returning them to their recent frenetic pace. When they finally tumbled over, Tony felt a slight unease and knew Jethro felt it too. However, neither man mentioned it, both pushing it away or intentionally ignoring it, as they had done all their adult lives.

When Tony dreamed, his dreams were of a redheaded woman, a small baby, and a joy he felt he'd never taste. He woke up with tears on his face, the conclusions he'd drawn from the intensity of their lovemaking completely forgotten.

* * *

 

Leon didn't usually interview suspects himself, but with this case, as with the one with the kid, he made an exception. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, and he realized he'd overdone it in that case. So, he instructed Doctor Mallard to be a part of the observation team, and if he started getting too involved, Ducky was to interrupt him with some false excuse. He'd had a partner or two do it before. With Gibbs not here to do the interrogation, it fell to him, so he would set up a support system beforehand. He took McGee into the room for a similar reason. He could read the young man's body language, and if he got too strong, Tim might not _say_ anything, but he would react. He strode into the room and looked across at Eddison and his JAG lawyer. The lawyer was dressed in his class As, and looked to be especially ruthless. _Great. Just fucking great._

He knew that Col. Smith and one of Fornell's boys were in the observation room with Ziva and Ducky. If either man had something to add, they'd decided to text it to the Director's phone. They'd debated the merits of earwigs, but in the end, they decided the psychological effects were greater if they did it this way. Vance sat down in the chair, chewing on his toothpick. "Captain Eddison. I am NCIS director Leon Vance." The lawyer looked up at him, a calculating expression on his face. _Shyster's tryin' to figure out why it's me and not Ham or Gibbs._ Leon stifled a snort, and opened the file in his hands. "Captain Jason Michael Varelli Eddison." That made the lawyer speak up.

"We would prefer that you leave 'Varelli' out of this. It's not officially part of his legal name, and has no bearing whatsoever on this investigation." He scribbled something on a yellow legal pad, and Leon knew that it was probably just gibberish. Part of the game.

"We beg to differ. It _is_ part of the investigation when he is using it as a pseudo-legal name in some circles." Leon pulled out a hotel receipt. "We were able to track him to the warehouse because of the use of his name. It wasn't until Col. Smith of the CID got involved that we even were aware of his _legal_ name. So, yes, his mother's maiden name is extremely germane to this discussion." Leon pulled out another piece of paper, setting it down on the table. "We're also aware that Captain Eddison had the means, motive _and_ opportunity to create the chemical that affected my agents." He kept the news of their specific condition off the table for now. "Luckily, they are still alive. However, at this point, they're completely unable to work." He slammed his hand down on the table. "Two of my best agents, Captain. How do you think I feel about that? I can't get much work done around here without those two." He noticed a look of satisfaction cross Eddison's face and quirked his brow at him. "You like that, don't you? You like that you've basically crippled my Major Case Response Team." That was news to both men, Vance noted.

"Are you intending to ask my client a question, Director, or are you just going to lecture us on what you have in your folder there?" The man, whose nameplate read Major J. Figdore looked up at Leon, his eyebrows raised as well. This was a game, and with a lawyer present, the rules were very different. Leon had assumed the kid would lawyer up, but he had hoped he'd get a little time with him before then. "Because if you're just going to lecture us, you can do that by telephone or email. My client has better things to do."

"Actually, since he's part of this case, he'll be remaining in holding until the time of his trial. He's a definite flight risk, and not just because of his familial connections. That one I'll say had nothing to do with Grandpa at all." Leon smiled his feral smile, keeping his attention on both men. "He is wanted by our agency, the CID -- in matters of national security with terrorism possibilities -- I'll let Eddison explain that one to you, counselor, but I'll give you a hint. It has to do with the unsanctioned use of Army biological weapons in correlation with his connections. We've proven those connections, by the way." He looked directly at Eddison now. "The FBI wants you at least as a person of interest if not a suspect in its RICO case against your family. That's just the basic charges. Before we ask any questions. So, I'm taking my time and doing this slowly, because I'm spearheading an investigation that covers three agencies, three states and the District, and covers at _least_ the information I've presented here. Would you like a few moments to consult with your client, counselor?"

"I was unaware of the severity of the charges." That's lawyer-speak for 'You're damn right I want a few moments with my client.' Figdore shifted in his seat so he was facing Eddison, and Vance stepped out of the room, McGee on his heels.

They stepped back out into the hall, and gave them five minutes. After that, they re-entered the room. "My client has nothing to say at this time. We will see you in court, unless you have specific questions that will not incriminate him further. And, at this time, he has no intention of speaking about his last visit to his aging grandfather." Vance internally rolled his eyes at the lawyer's last phrase. _Aging grandfather, my ass._ The lawyer had finished his spiel and was sitting next to a silent Eddison.

That was all he could do at the moment. He sighed, motioning for McGee to follow him. The two of them stepped into the observation room and Vance exhaled sharply. "So, gentlemen, David, what do you think."

"Tough bastard to crack, but we knew that." That was the Feeb's comment.

"His family connections are going to make this interesting, Vance." Ham replied. "But, as he says, we knew that." Ham smiled, showing his teeth. "We're smarter and we've got more resources at our disposal. With three federal agencies involved, as well as the USAMRIID and the force and power of two branches of the American Military, I assume we can get this done."

It was McGee who piped up quietly with what all the NCIS personnel were thinking. "Never assume. Always verify." Vance couldn't help but snort.

"Let's put him back on ice. We're gonna need more if we're gonna get this taken care of. We've got enough for the powder. Let's get back on the murder. David, you and Ham'll go interview the witness again, take Eddison's picture. McGee, take ah... Fornell's man ... "

"Agent Wilson, sir." The pudgy man standing next to Ducky replied.

"Wilson here and go dig through his financials again. You any good at technology, Wilson?"

"Yes, sir, I'm fair. I'm not as good at ELINT as McGee, of course, but if you tell Sacks or Fornell I said that, I'll deny it." He grinned, a childlike expression.

"I didn't hear a dammed thing. David, you and Doctor Mallard escort our prisoner back to holding. Doctor Mallard, I want you to talk to him for a bit -- under supervision only -- and get a read on him. Do a full workup. It might give us some ideas on how to get to the bottom of this whole mess."

"We can do that." David nodded. Leon grabbed her arm as she walked past him.

"David, remember this guy's got a high-powered lawyer. Get him settled without injury and get someone to stick with Mallard, and you get your ass back out on the street."

"If you'd like, Leon, I'll go with her to take him down there. Unless it's proprietary." Ham grinned, knowing full well that it wasn't.

"Go ahead. That would ease my mind plenty, Ham. Thank you." Leon chewed on his toothpick. "Alright, people, let's go!"

* * *

 

Dr. Donald Mallard finished typing the psychiatric workup on Captain Eddison and printed it out, sending it with Mister Palmer up to the Director's office. He sighed his exhaustion and rolled his neck, attempting to get all the kinks out. He stood up, checked his pockets for all the pertinent things, grabbed his keys from the counter where he set them every single day, donned his fedora, and stepped out the door toward his Aston Martin. Mother had helped him choose this car when he settled here in DC. It had been relatively cheap as AMs go, because the driver didn't want to deal with the driver's seat being on the wrong side. Since Donald had learned to drive in Scotland, it fit just perfectly for him. It took him a while to get used to driving on the other side, but with most of his commute being on the freeway, that wasn't an issue. He could drive in the left lane with impunity for a good portion of the trip. He snorted. _What a strange memory to pull up right now._ He frowned. _I wonder how Anthony and Jethro are doing? I haven't seen them since I dropped them off on Tuesday. It's Friday today, isn't it?_ He pulled out his cellular phone and looked at the calendar on it, peering over his glasses. _Yes. It's Friday. That means it's been three days since I've seen them. I ought to go check on them. I'll call first to make sure it's alright._ Phone still in hand, he sat in the seat of the car and dialed Jethro's home number. "Jethro, Yes. It's Ducky. Would you and Anthony mind if I stopped by this evening? I could bring a meal over for you, and I would like to see how the two of you are doing."

Jethro's voice came through the line, sounding a little more content than he'd heard in a while. "That'd be fine, Duck. Tony says there's an Italian place nearby that serves a good meal." He gave him the directions, and explained about the sauce.

"Jethro, that is something I should have known ages ago." Ducky rested his hand on the steering wheel, sliding completely in, letting his frustration fuel his movement forward.

"Noted, Duck. See ya soon." And with that, he hung up on him again. He shook his head, and returned his telephone to his pocket. "Some things never change."

When he arrived at Jethro's house, he knocked once, then opened the door. "Jethro, I have the food. You were right. They do have a lovely selection of food. I even got us a salad to go along with the meal." Jethro groused a little at his attempt at adding a few more vitamins and minerals to their diets, but he let it die quickly, sitting at the table, holding Tony's hand. "Anthony. How are you?"

"Fine, Duck. What's up?" Tony looked relaxed. He was wearing a pair of sweats and a muscle shirt. He could understand not wearing a lot of clothing right now. It was coming on to summer, and they needed to maintain a certain amount of touching. It made sense.

"I hadn't seen you for three days and I had not heard from you, so I took it upon myself to visit." He smiled, happy to see two of his favorite agents again. "And since I was intruding upon your hospitality, I rather thought I should bring the meal."

"Oh, you went to Nonna Mia's!" Anthony looked over at Jethro with a pleased look. It was an order above his normal expression when Jethro did something thoughtful. _It must be the change in the nature of their relationship,_ he mused.

"Jethro suggested it, my dear boy." Ducky replied. He started pulling the pastas out of the bag. He'd gotten something mild but flavorful for Jethro, and something with a bit more bite for Anthony.

"Yeah. I heard him." Anthony's reply was wry, and Ducky could have slapped himself in the forehead as he had seen Mister Palmer do a number of times. _Of course, he did. I must remember that there are no secrets between the two of them._ He watched them look at each other, communication clearly happening between them, mind-to-mind, and Jethro snorted. They ate their meals, the two of them sitting close but not as closely as they had in the back of his car. He saw them brush their hands together on a regular basis, and thougth that might be how they were alleviating the pain they seemed to suffer when they separated.

Conversation flowed easily, and Ducky brought them up to speed on the case. Jethro looked intrigued, drumming his free hand on the table when he wasn't eating with it. Anthony stroked his chin a time or two, and Ducky hid his smile. They were taking on each other's mannerisms. It was much like watching his old aunt and uncle who had been married for fifty years. The two men had always communicated well -- both verbally and non-verbally, but this was something else entirely. He smiled to see it.

Once, though, he thought he saw a deep sadness cross Anthony's face, and wondered about it. It was a very brief, so he thought he might have imagined it. He sincerely hoped he had.

When supper had finished, Jethro and Anthony moved together toward the couch. "C'mon, Duck, come sit out here for a bit." They tangled their limbs together on the couch, and the three men continued their conversation. In the middle of it, Anthony stood, nodded his head, untangled himself from Jethro, and strode to the fridge.

"Ducky, you want a beer?" He turned to look at the man for a moment. Ducky shook his head; he had to drive home, after all. Anthony retrieved two beers and moved back to sit down with them. However, he didn't tangle himself up with Jethro again. In fact, he sat far enough away that Ducky could have sat between them. They clinked beers and smiled at each other, then began discussing the case again, going through all the little pieces.

After about an hour, Ducky realized what was bothering him. "You aren't touching." He stood up, grasped each of their hands in turn, felt their temperatures and blood pressures in a very basic examination. "When I left you here, you were unable to remain apart for five minutes. Ten if you had engaged in copious amounts of osculation." Anthony looked confused for half a second, and then looked sheepish. Ducky was certain Jethro had explained the term to him.

"We're not?" Anthony looked between them, and frowned. "You know, we're not. You even went down into the basement earlier today. For what? Two hours? And I didn't even notice. I was watching that 'made-for-TV' movie. Though, you've gotta admit, the guy playing the detective was hot. Reminded me of you." He grinned, and Jethro just shook his head.

"Yeah, I caught that, Tone." Jethro slid over. "I think it mightta had somethin' to do with ..." He sounded hesitant to continue. "You really need an explanation, Duck?"

Ducky sighed. He could assume what had happened, but he wanted their confirmation. "I could make an assumption, but I'd need it verified. May I express my assumption and you can confirm or deny it? Would that be easier than attempting to explain it to me yourselves?" The two men nodded, and Ducky snorted his amusement. "I am a medical doctor, gentlemen. I deal with the human body every single day. There is not much left that surprises me. I have two assumptions. Perhaps they both are true. My first assumption is that you implemented whatever solution Mister Palmer stumbled upon for your thought process differential." They nodded, and Jethro slid his arm around the back of the couch, drawing Anthony closer. "My second assumption is that you engaged in at least one bout of anal intercourse, which may have cemented things inside your brains. I have never heard of such a thing, but it seems the only reasonable explanation."

"Yeah, Duck, that's about right." Jethro was the one to confirm his suspicions, but both men were clearly embarrassed by the discussion. "Been touchin' enough that it seems t' be alright." Jethro shrugged.

"Well, perhaps it would be enough that you could begin light duties again. We'd have to monitor your condition, and perhaps set aside a place for you to refresh the -- pool, shall we say? If you feel you need to, I would demand that you do. Never again do I wish to see the two of you in such intense pain." He shuddered at the memory of the two of them thrashing around on the floor of that warehouse. When they described what the separation had done to them, even as they lay mostly unconscious, he felt guilty for having tried to move them at all.

"Might work. Dunno about -- touchin' like that at the Yard. Still too ..." Ducky understood what Jethro was trying to say.

"We might bandy about a story that would help. I don't know what the particulars might be, but it might contain enough of the truth that it would work."

"Maybe..." Anthony was considering it. He knew the younger man was very skilled at undercover work. He also knew that the two of them would either have to be sent in together or not at all. Probably the latter, since it would be hard to hide their condition if they somehow regressed. He sighed and stood up.

"I do need to get home, gentlemen. But I have enjoyed spending the evening with you. We'll get something worked out. I believe the case would be solved much more quickly if you both were able to set your minds to it." He stepped over to the couch and patted Anthony on the shoulder.

"Thank you for the meal, Ducky. It was delicious." It was clear that Anthony was speaking for both of them, especially when Jethro just nodded minutely to express his agreement.

"Oh, certainly. If you wish to come in Monday morning, we may be able to figure out what we can do to mitigate the problems you may have."

"Sounds like a plan, Duck. Drive safe." Jethro waved a hand idly in farewell, and drew Anthony closer.

Ducky suspected one of them would soon lock the door for the time being.


	13. Chapter 13

Tony rolled over, running his hand across Jethro's skin. _'Bout ready to wake up? I think you said Fornell was coming today, right?_ They'd found that they could communicate a little when one of them was asleep. It was rough and sometimes unclear, but if it was something simple, it worked most of the time.

 _Fornell. Yeah._ Tony grinned at Jethro's mind responding to his comments in such a disjointed way. He kissed Jet's shoulder, and snuggled in for a few more minutes.

The other thing that was interesting about waking up just before Jethro was that he could think about things without Jet knowing how much he hurt. To a point, anyway. If he concentrated too hard on something that hurt, it'd bug him enough to wake him. But most of the time, especially if it was surrounded by good thoughts, it seemed to come across as a dream, and it was okay. He didn't do this very often -- mostly because he usually didn't wake up before Jet did, but today, something was bugging him. He sighed, finally choosing to disentangle himself from the embrace and stride naked to the bathroom. He used the toilet and brushed his teeth, running his hands through his hair, letting his thoughts percolate for a few minutes in the silence.

He could feel Jethro stirring, so he stowed his thoughts and turned to watch Jethro move. His heart stirred at the sight of the power in the shorter man's frame. _God, you look good_ , Tony commented, making him blush a little. They were still getting used to the small, deep things that seemed to flow between them.

 _Piss. Teeth. Coffee. Dunno how we're gonna explain this t' Fornell._ Jethro grumbled as he stepped past Tony to get to the toilet. Tony snorted his amusement and moved to find some clothing.

 _Well, we could do like we did with Leon and Duck. But that might not work, unless there's some deep, dark secret that you haven't told me about already. But I knew a lot about stuff between the two of you before we were linked._ Tony shrugged. He licked his teeth as he felt Jethro cleaning his own mouth. _That still feels weird._

 _Mmm._ It was the mental equivalent of a grunt. Jet could wake up in a moment if he had to, but at home, when he was safe, he woke slowly, not completely coming awake until he'd gotten his coffee. Tony finished dressing and stepped downstairs to start the coffee. Truth be told, he could use a cup himself. He also wanted to see what the effects would be if _he_ drank the coffee first. He'd tried to do so once or twice, but Gibbs was sneaky. He snorted and felt the amusement at Tony's experiment. He got the coffee started, sticking his mug under the drip to get a half cup of coffee as it poured out of the maker. Deftly, he replaced the carafe and moved to add the sugar and creamer he favored. The creamer had the secondary effect of cooling the coffee down just enough for him to take a drink. He did so, and the effect was immediate.

 _Coffee._ Tony felt the urge pass through the barrier, and saw his lover stride downstairs completely naked, take the cup from his hand and drink a long gulp. _Don't necessarily like that creamer shit, but ...._ The thought trailed off as the gears in Jethro's head began to move more quickly. _Mornin'. Everything okay?_ He gave Tony his coffee back, reaching behind his head. Tony ducked, thinking he'd get a headslap for laughing at Jethro's antics, but instead, Jethro lowered his hand, raised Tony's head, and kissed him long and hard. _Wish Tobias wasn't comin'. Don't wanna do this._

Tony understood the sentiment, and the several layers that it included. _Hope the explanation doesn't take too long. When he leaves, we can...._ His own thought trailed off, because they both knew what he was saying. The emotions and physical reactions were evident in the kiss. Tony pulled away, slapping gently at Jethro's ass. "Go get dressed, Boss. I'll get you your untained cup of joe. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Bacon and eggs." That sounded good enough to Tony, so he nodded, and watched as Jethro headed back upstairs to dress. He set about making a basic breakfast of bacon and eggs, and filled one of Jet's huge mugs with coffee. By the time he had all of that done, Jethro was back downstairs, and had fetched the paper from the doorstep. _Sports page._ Jethro pulled it out and set it at Tony's place.

 _Thanks, Boss. Want some toast to go with the eggs?_ Tony gazed over at the toaster, debating whether he wanted any.

 _Naw. Sit down and eat, Tone. Toby'll be here in a few._ He obeyed, grabbing the newspaper and reading the scores, his mind running a quiet commentary on the different games and sports he followed. Once in a while, he'd pause to listen to Jet's commentary on the news he was reading. It was a good thing they had similar ideas on most things.

Tony felt a pain start to blossom between his eyes, and sighed. "Please put your damn glasses on, Jet. I don't want a migraine this early in the morning." He stood and stepped to grab the hated glasses, handing the case over. _Sorry, Boss, but I just can't let that go. I know you hate them. I hate them, too. They feel weird. But ...._ He shrugged, returning to his seat to eat his food.

With a mild annoyance that seemed to twist something inside Tony's heart, Jethro pulled the glasses out and put them on. He grumbled quietly about them for a few minutes, then returned to reading without the extra comments.

Tony heaved a deep sigh, nibbling at his food. Jethro looked up at him, tilted his head as though assessing something, and then returned to his paper without even thinking too hard about what he felt. That made it a little worse. Tony finished his bacon, stood up and scraped the rest of his eggs in the trash. He washed his plate, took his portion of the paper and headed into the living room to read it. After a few minutes, he could feel and hear Jethro finishing up, scraping the last of the bits into the trash, gazing down at the amount Tony had thrown away. He cleaned up, only making a terse comment about his eating habits, and then moved in to sit beside him, drawing him close again.

Only a little later, they heard a noise at the door. “It’s open, Tobias,” Jethro called, and Fornell stepped in.

“Gibbs. DiNozzo,” Fornell moved over to sit down in the chair. “You look cozy.”

“Can it, Tobias. Shit’s tough enough without your smartass remarks.” Jethro hadn’t taken his glasses off, and he looked over them at his old friend.

“Alright, Jethro. Alright.” Fornelli held up his hands. “So, what’s goin’ on? Tell me what the powder did. I got a bit of an idea, but nobody wanted to give me the explanation.”

“We asked them not to. Put yourself in our place, Fornell. You wouldn’t want everybody knowing about what weird shit was going on. And this is weird shit.” Tony slid his hand over, seeking skin, needing reassurance and connection. Jethro understood, and moved his other hand to grasp the one in his lap.

“Yeah, I guess.” He gestured to their joined hands. “This part of it?”

“Yes, and no,” Tony clarified, or attempted to. _You want to explain this, or shall I?_ He didn’t want to step on Jethro’s toes if the man wanted to explain it himself.

 _Go ahead, Tone, you seem to get the message across. If you wanna do the secret thing, there’s a few things...._ Jethro shrugged.

 _I don’t know. If I have to, I will._ He tilted his head, acquiescing to his lover’s wish. “It’s like this. That powder did something to our brains. When we were close enough, or touched or saw each other -- I don’t know what the trigger was, but it was something. Anyway, when we triggered the powder, it connected us mentally. We woke up able to hear each other’s thoughts. We built a mental construct to communicate clearly between us, and it’s just gotten more intense as...” He shrugged, gesturing to their joined hands. “At first, we couldn’t move away from each other for more than five minutes. Then, certain -- things increased the time to ten. We’re finally getting to the point where we function more normally, but it’s required an awful lot of ...” He hesitated in his explanation, unsure how to phrase it.

“Had t’ fuck him, Tobias. Only way t’ stay sane.” Fornell looked shocked at Gibbs words. Tony heard the tone of voice, caught all the layers of meaning behind it, understood that Jethro was frustrated at the situation, and closed his eyes for a moment. He inhaled sharply, letting it out slowly and subsuming the sharp stab of pain. He couldn’t hide the thought that began to form in the back of his mind, though.

 _Yeah. You had to._ It was simple, it was short, but it was deadly, like a poison. Jethro looked sharply at him for a moment, tried to reassure him mentally, but did a half-assed job. His mind was on explaining this to his old friend.

“Oh, hell, Gibbs.” Tobias expressed his sympathy and sighed. “Now I see what you were talking about DiNozzo.” He still pronounced it the old Italian way.

“Yeah. You see what we mean? Terrorism. And if some capo or don got ahold of this?” Tony shuddered, and leaned back into Jethro’s arms.

The three of them spent a good portion of the morning discussing the case, their situation, the joint jurisdiction, and whatever all else they needed to. When they finished and Tobias had left, Jethro shucked his shirt, grabbed Tony’s hand, and led him up to bed, reassuring him slowly and intensely that he he loved him. Tony let it fill up the spaces, but there was still something bugging him, deep down. Sated, and content for the time, they slept most of the afternoon.

* * *

 

Sunday, the two of them spent the day packing up Tony's apartment. Gibbs groused a little bit about the amount of crap and clothes Tony had, but it was good-natured. He tried to be attentive to his lover, getting the nagging sense that something was wrong. Tony wouldn't talk about it; in fact he'd even pushed it aside in his thoughts. Gibbs didn't push any farther because he wouldn't like it done to him. So, he remained quiet, let it percolate somewhere deep, and tried to show his care through his touch. They got about half of the apartment packed and Tony was pleased with the amount.

 _Mind if we stay here tonight, Boss? I mean, we can stop by your/our place in the morning to get you a clean change of clothes. There's this little Indian place that serves an awesome curry. They make a milk-mild one if that's what you want -- I don't want to hurt you/us. Hurting enough...._ Gibbs wondered at that last thought, but when he tried to 'ask' about it, a door slammed in his face. He blinked, and let it slide.

"Yeah, we can stay here. You're always goin' on about your soft bed and slick sheets." He grinned. "Wanna show me how good they feel?" Tony grinned up at him, _almost_ completely content with the idea. "C'mon. Show me this bed of yours." They spent the night reaffirming their connection. At the end of it, he lay exhausted, stroking Tony's hair. _Everything alright?_ He couldn't forget that little tiny sense of -- something.

"Yeah, Boss, I'm good." Gibbs could have groaned, but he let it slide, feeling the lassitude and pleasure coursing through both of them. He drew Tony closer, sliding a little on the unfamiliarly textured sheets, and sighed happily. They fell asleep like that.

The next morning, Tony woke him up with a blow-job. He grinned, looking down at Tony's eager movements.

 _Could feel you wanting this, Jethro, and I thought it sounded damn good myself, so..._ Tony shrugged.

 _S'good._ He replied in kind, groaning as Tony took him deeper. _Hell of a way to wake up, that's for sure._ The rest of his thoughts were lost to the sheer pleasure of the act. When Tony had finally sucked the last drop of semen from his dick, Jethro returned the favor, eliciting deep groans from his lover. Both men were grinning as they got in the car to drive back over to Gibbs' house. Gibbs dressed quickly, then they stopped for coffee before heading straight to the Yard.

Vance called them into his office, and Gibbs explained basically that they'd figured out how to deal with the situation, that Ducky and Brad knew what to do if a situation arose, and that they might need a little leeway for a while. Vance didn't sound pleased, but he nodded, making a note in their files. Ducky had already passed on his recommendation that neither man be sent undercover without the other, and if possible, not at all. Gibbs could hear the disappointment that ratcheted around in Tony's head -- he knew that Tony really liked going undercover. _We'll figure somethin' out, Tone. That's a huge part of you. Maybe we could..._ He cut off his thought, but knew at least part of the idea he'd had had registered with the other man.

 _Thanks, Boss._ The grin was out of place in the conversation they were having, but Leon didn't say anything. It seemed he was blatantly ignoring the elephant in the room for now. Gibbs wasn't sure if it was a matter of pity or just his way of dealing with the unknown.

"Now. I know Fornell told you we picked up Eddison. You two want a shot at interrogatin' him?" Gibbs just stared at him.

 _Do we want a shot at ..._ Tony's mind kept going, faux-annoyed with Vance's question.

"S' what I thought. Go get him, Gibbs, and see if you can shake somethin' loose. He's got a lawyer with him, so you'll have to wait for him, but I'll call and get it set up." Leon was already picking up the phone.

Gibbs nodded, standing up from his seat. "C'mon, DiNozzo. Work t' do." _Tony, let's see how well we work together. Good cop, Bad cop? That always seems to work for us._

 _Damn right it does,_ Tony replied, straightening his suit jacket as he stood. _C'mon. I have a feeling we're about to be mobbed. I thought I saw some crepe paper on your desk._

Gibbs rolled his eyes, and they headed downstairs to be greeted by the team.

About twenty minutes later, his cell buzzed just as he was getting a last hug from Abby. "Gibbs," he barked.

"Gibbs. Eddison and Figdore are in Interrogation One. You and DiNozzo can take a shot at them. Last time, neither wanted to talk, and they definitely didn't want to talk about his visit with his 'aging grandfather.'"

 _Air-quotes there, Jet._ Tony responded to the tone he heard in Vance's voice. He snorted. _Tonio Varelli is no more aging than you are, Boss. I mean, he's older than you, but he's spry. And shifty._

 _I got it, Tone._ They'd spent some time that weekend discussing what they knew about the case, the players, the agencies involved, and whatever all else they could. Both men found it fairly helpful to be able to share the information in their personal 'bullepen', so they had.

"We'll be there soon. Fornell and Smith here, too?" Gibbs asked, knowing what the answer would probably be.

"Yep. Smith just got here. Fornell's been around, bugging another team." Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"DiNozzo, with me," he called, grasping for some sense of the familiar. "David, see if you can corroborate those details from the witness. McGee, you come with us and watch from Observation. Abby ..."

"Get back into my lab and make my babies work faster. Yes, sir, Gibbs, sir." Gibbs just glared at her as she gave him a left-handed sloppy salute.

 _Kid's cute,_ his mind commented before he could prevent it. Tony just grinned.

 _Always knew you had a soft spot for her, Gibbs._ There was the beginning of another thought, but Tony's conscious mind stomped on it quickly, quashing it out of existence before Gibbs could hear it. _C'mon, Boss. Dirtbag's waiting._ Gibbs snorted as they headed to Interrogation, lockstep as always.

Gibbs disliked Varell -- _Eddison_ , his mind corrected -- on sight. _Pompous little ass. You want to out-pompous him? Like the Sheraton case._ Gibbs remembered a case when all it took for the perp to break was for Tony to sit there, imperious, cold, seemingly unaware of the kid. After a few minutes, the kid started demanding things, and Tony replied as superciliously as any New York businessman. It was amazing to watch.

 _Really?_ There was a shy, tentative tone to Tony's mindvoice as he fondly recalled the memory. _Amazing?_

 _Fuck._ Gibbs sighed, and nodded. _Amazing. You do that part, and I'll work around it. Sound good?_

 _On it, Boss._ Some of Tony's old confidence returned, and he straightened his tie, put on the appropriate expression, and strode out of the observation room into Interrogation. He sat down in the chair, pulled out his phone, and started typing madly into it. Knowing that he was texting Abby about some random bullshit, Gibbs bit back a grin before striding into the room, trying to decide on his part in their little drama.

Before he got too far, though, Eddison spoke up. "You're alive?" He sounded surprised. "And you haven't killed each other?" His lawyer laid a hand on his arm, and the kid fell silent.

 _Damn lawyers,_ he groused, and got an affirmative back from Tony. "Alive and well, no thanks to you. You know how much that shit hurt? But it was short-term," he lied, his mind explaining a little of what he was thinking to Tony. Tony took the thought and began considering possibilities as Gibbs talked, feeding them back to him slowly and singularly. "I mean, it was a bit rough for a couplea days, but nothin' too horrible. You musta been a complete failure at your job. Maybe that's why you were RIF'd." He shrugged, and looked over at Tony, sharing a knowing glance.

"Of course it was, Gibbs, I mean, kid like this? How could he _possibly_ make something that would affect us permanently?" He set the phone down and gazed across at Eddison. "I've met little punks like you. Hell, I _was_ a little punk like you. Skating by on daddy's dime, loving every minute..." Gibbs knew the truth, but he wouldn't have been able to tell from the man's demeanor. "Well, in your case, you're skating by on _Papi's_ dime, am I right, _paisano_?"

"You're no _paisano_ of mine." It took another touch from Figdore and a harsh whisper, but Eddison calmed down.

"As I told the director, my client has nothing to say to you. So, unless you have a specific question which will not incriminate..." Tony cut him off.

"Hey, Jason. You like movies?" Gibbs saw part of what Tony was attempting to do, or at least the beginnings of the net. He held back a feral grin.

"I've watched a few, yeah." Eddison replied. "Why?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about a couple that came to mind right now. I mean... there are some that are so inane you wish you hadn't spent the eleven bucks to go see 'em. Or even the dollar to rent 'em. Then others," Tony held up his hand in a very Roman gesture. "Others, you watch, go back, rent, then you figure, Hell, I've seen this thirteen times. I'll shell out the money for the Blu-Ray." Gibbs was a little lost with the terminology, but Tony's mind slipped him the important information, and he nodded a little, as though agreeing with Tony's assessment. "See, that's what I think happened. I think you got so interested in this that you wanted the Blu-Ray." Eddison looked like he was about to talk, so Tony pushed a little more. "You wanted to see in full Technicolor what would happen if you linked two minds. I read the reports, Eddy-baby, and I saw what you were trying to do. Now, of course, our little lab-rat had to explain it to me, but it was a brilliant idea. In theory. But it's like a B-Rated movie. The effects were okay, the production was decent, casting was fair, but the script sucked. And you were a script writer, weren't you?" Eddison inhaled, and opened his mouth. However, his lawyer spoke again.

"I believe this interrogation is over. We'll see you at the hearing, Agents." He stood up, leading his client back to the cell.

 _Well, fuck._ The epithet echoed between the two of them, and it fit the situation perfectly. Gibbs added a little more. _Fuckin' lawyers._

* * *

 

Ziva was very glad that things were returning to some semblance of normal. The situation with Gibbs and Tony -- stranged her out a bit -- no, that wasn't quite right... It unsettled her. She huffed a sigh as the men stepped out of the interrogation room, walking in perfect step. They usually walked that way, but now, if you looked closely enough, you could see a difference. They were connected more deeply than they had ever been. It made sense, of course, with what she knew of the influence of the powder, but it unnerved her. It could have been her with any of the team, or any of the FBI Agents that had been working with her. She -- appreciated her team, but she had been trained to value her privacy. It would have made her exceedingly uncomfortable to be that close with _anyone_. Even a paramour. She shuddered, and headed back to her desk to write up a report on the interrogation.

She had finally put the finishing touches on her report and printed it out when Gibbs came striding back into the room from a coffee run. It appeared he had grabbed a drink for Tony as well, and Ziva wondered if it was something he did because he wanted to, or because he knew Tony wanted him to, or for some other reason entirely. "Gear up, people. I want to go take a look at the apartment you picked Eddison up from. Tony called Madkins, and he said it'd be okay for us to take a look around." Ziva was already scrambling to get her backpack and other gear as her boss finished his explanation. "C'mon. I'm driving." He tossed the keys to Tony, not even needing to verbalize the usual command. It was slightly odd, like a symphony missing one of its drums. The rhythm was a little off. She shook off the feeling, pocketed her badge, slid her gun into her holster, and headed toward the elevator behind Gibbs. The older man gave her an amused look, but said nothing.

Gibbs still drove the same way. Tony sat up front with him, setting his hand on the other man's thigh. They must have been conversing as they drove, because one or the oth er of them would make a gesture or snort or indicate in some other way that they were not as silent as they appeared. She looked over to McGee beside her, and whispered, "Do you have some sort of Shy - Fi reference to this? I know that Tony says you are much more into those movies and television shows than he is. Have you seen something like this before?"

"It's Sci-fi, Ziva. Short for Science fiction. And I've seen one thing. There's this episode of Star Trek: the Next Generation. It's the second show the franchise made," hence the 'next generation' part, Ziva assumed. Tim continued. "The doctor and the captain get this implant in their heads. They start to hear each other's thoughts. He finds it funny that she keeps all her acerbic comments to himself. She finds it sad that he's -- wanted her since before she married her husband." Tim explained a little more about the show, and Ziva nodded.

"It does sound like a similar experience. I hope it turns out as well for them as it did for the people in the show. I know that I would not like to be connected to anyone so intimately. It would be extremely unconcerting."

"Disconcerting. Yeah. I know what you mean. It'd be interesting from a purely scientific point of view, but I can't ..." The two men in the front had stopped their 'conversation', and were listening.

It was Tony who spoke up, but they knew it must have the encouragement of both of them, or Gibbs would have said otherwise. "Go on, Probalicious." Tony gestured wildly, returning his hand back to Gibbs' thigh as though he needed the extra touch. Gibbs lowered his hand to entwine with Tony's, confirming her thoughts.

"I can't imagine it practically. I mean, I can't imagine why someone would want ..." He paused, and Ziva could see the wheels turning in his head. The author was trying to get the words exactly right. "Boss, it's a neat idea from a science fiction point of view. I'll grant that. But I don't understand why they would have been making this. It sounds like they didn't have very good protocols, or didn't have an understanding of what would happen. When you alter the chemistry of something, unless you have a -- an antidote, I guess, it's irrevocably changed. When you said it 'wore off' and Eddison accepted that, it showed he didn't have the right mindset for this kind of work. I've only got a basic degree in bio-engineering, right, but I know better than to..."

"What are you sayin', McGee?" Gibbs asked, taking a turn onto a different freeway.

"I'm saying, Boss, that either he never expected to be able to use it, that he knew it would be permanent and didn't believe you, or that he's full of shit. Pardon the language. He didn't sound like he knew what the hell he was talking about."

"So, if he made that shit himself, it could be unstable?" Gibbs' voice hardened with what Ziva had learned was worry.

"I don't think so. If it was, it would have been already." Tim paused. "What I'm saying is, he either had help making that particular powder and just stole it, or got damn lucky. One of the two. He's no Einstein."

Gibbs grunted, and they all fell silent again, but Ziva noticed the two men in front were talking again. She thought about the relevance of Tim's words for a while, and then dozed off until she felt the car stop.

Gibbs grunted again as he levered himself out of the car. "This the place?" He gestured to the familiar apartment complex.

"Yeah, Boss." Tim answered him. "Sixth floor, number six-oh-five. We went up -- those stairs." He pointed to the stairs they'd used.

"Good. C'mon. Kid's been staying with his parents until we get this done, so it should still be just the way it was."

"Good." Ziva nodded, sliding on her gloves.

The team worked quietly and efficiently, dusting and looking through everything. Ziva had the feeling that they were here on a wild duck chase, but she kept working anyway. It was important to cover all the bases, and since this was the only 'home' they had for Eddison beyond the warehouse they had already searched, they would search there as well.

"Anything? McGee, David?" Gibbs came alongside her, gazing down to where she was looking around the apartment.

"No, Gibbs," Ziva held up her small container of collected evidence. "We have the fingerprints, which we can probably match to Madkins and Eddison. But without any physical evidence around the ..." She paused. "Did we dust that lab place for prints? His prints would be there, would they not?"

"Good point," Gibbs grunted. He didn't look pleased by the idea. "We'll send a team. Let's finish this up and get the hell back t' DC. Wastin' our time grabbin' ass around here."

Ziva finished her work, pondering that particular idiom for a while.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some very dark themes. Please be aware of discussion and mention of suicide.
> 
> Also, though, on a lighter note, this chapter has a couple lines thrown in here for my friend Ace. :D

They got back to DC, logged the evidence, and tied everything up as best they could for now. _C'mon, Tone. Wanna go home. Wanna curl up with you and forget about this shit. Don't wanna think about it anymore. Too much thinkin', not enough doin.'_ Gibbs was realizing how grumpy he got when he was tired and couldn't solve a case. It really wasn't worth it to sit around and make work while they waited for a clue. Sometimes, the best clues or leads came from things that happened outside the office. He'd forgotten that. It was a lesson he'd had to learn the hard way.

"Comin' Boss," Tony automatically called, grabbing his gear. "See you tomorrow, Probsters." _Probably should have responded mentally. Eh..._ Tony's mind kept twirling around the possibilities he'd missed or misunderstood.

Gibbs sighed as the two of them walked out to the car. _Don't always assume you did it wrong, Tone. Most of the time, you're pretty much on-target._

A portion of Tony's mind was still working on the possibilities, a portion was beaming at the praise coming from his lover / boss, and a portion was making inane and childish jokes about being on-target. _Can I target your ass, Boss?_ Tony grinned up at him, the grin sliding away when Gibbs sent his normal glare his way. Another small portion of Tony's mind seemed to back away slowly from their connection, and Gibbs wondered at that. He found a thread that looked sorta like the memory thread Tony had pulled to see all the images of Shannon, and he yanked on it.

 _It was a dark room, lit only by a gooseneck lamp. Tony Senior was sitting in his office chair, sipping slowly on his scotch. "Mark my words, boy. You need to shape up, walk the line, or if you don't, you'll end up in a gutter. A loser. The world is your oyster, child, but you have to dive for it. Work your ass off. Turn a blind eye to a few things. Do a few things for others to turn a blind eye to. The way you're headed? You'll be dead of a shotgun wound to the head and laying in a gutter by thirty."_

Gibbs caught young Tony's expression in the reflection of the glass-covered bookshelf. He looked very young. Younger than Kells was when she died. He didn't see what was so rough about the memory. He didn't see the look on both the reflected boy and the present-day man. They were silent the rest of the way home, each lost in their thoughts. Both were so focused on their own dark thoughts that they didn't realize the other's were just as dark.

They arrived home and Gibbs got them beers while Tony went upstairs to change. Gibbs followed him up a few moments later, changing his own clothes. "You all right, Tony?" He gazed over to where his lover sat on the bed, looking down at his hands. He sensed some sort of unease from him, but couldn't quite put a finger on it.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Gibbs' mind echoed a strong _bullshit_ , but he left it alone. For now. He finished changing and headed downstairs.

 _Gonna call Jack. You wanna talk to him at all?_ Gibbs asked as he pulled his cell out of his pocket.

Jethro felt a flare of interest, and then it dissipated again. _No, I'm alright. You go ahead._ Tony gave a wan smile, and sipped at his beer.

Gibbs shrugged and dialed his dad's number. "Hello?" Jackson Gibbs' voice sent a sharp wave of relief through Jethro that he didn't know he'd feel.

"Dad. How's it goin'?" He smiled a small smile and sat down at the table, sipping at his beer.

"Can't complain. Old man Morris down the street raised his prices, so business has been pretty good." Gibbs could almost see the man shrugging. "What's goin' on, Leroy? You never call unless you're comin' up here, or some drug dealer's after my ass because you made a stupid mistake."

The smile slid off Gibbs' face, and he sighed. "No, Dad. Nobody's comin' up to Stillwater. Just wanted t' call and give you some news." _How the hell am I supposed t' tell him this? I can't just out and tell him ..._ Gibbs growled. "Listen. Case last week got hairy. DiNozzo and I got exposed t' some experimental chemical. Linked us in our minds."

"Your minds? Like you can hear the kid's thoughts?" Jack sounded incredulous. "Either you're a damned liar, Leroy, or ...." Gibbs could understand the man's reticence.

"Yeah, I know, Jack," Gibbs tried not to interject the annoyance he felt into his voice. "Wasn't my damn choice. Damnedest thing I've ever heard of. But we're alright." He knew that was a lie as soon as he said it. He could feel something growing between them.

"Well, you just let me know, Leroy, and I'll come over there. Sounds like you need someone takin' care of the two of you. It's not too -- overwhelmin' is it, son?" Jack was still trying to get his mind around the idea.

"No, Dad, we finally figured out how t' think without causin' the other one migraines." Gibbs really didn't want to explain this part to his dad. "Jack, you remember when you caught me with old man Gantry's nephew? Makin' out on the back porch?"

"Yeah, Leroy. Surprised the hell outta me. You gonna tell me you're fuckin' that boy?" Gibbs knew his father's eyebrows were all the way up to the top of his forehead now. He remembered the look of incredulity. Same damn look he gave when he showed him the papers from the Corps recruiter, _fait accompli_. The memory came unbidden into his mind and played sharply across his thoughts.

"Yeah, Jack. S'what I'm sayin'. Only way t' keep from hurtin' so bad..." Gibbs took another long pull of his beer.

 _Boss, I'm gonna go back to my apartment and get a few more things packed alright? I think we'll be okay for now. I just need some space..._ Tony's mental voice sounded young and small, and Gibbs fairly grasped at it, reaching out to try to do _something_.

He could only nod and acquiesce. _Let me know if you need me/I need you/want you nearby/be careful_. His mind poured out his worry into the other man's mind, but Tony had already gone out the door. "Listen, Dad, I've got to run, but if you need somethin', or if you're plannin' to head this way, gimme a call first, huh?"

"Alright, son. I don't know how the hell you get yourself into these messes, Leroy. Phone works both ways."

"Yeah, Dad, I know." With that, he hung up. The ache that was building inside him was beginning to burn. It seemed very familiar, but younger, more raw. He didn't understand it wasn't his own pain; it tasted so much like the tearing that happened between him and all three exes that he brushed it off and headed downstairs to work on something in the basement. He pulled down the bourbon, grabbed his glass, and slogged a couple gulps before wiping off his chin. It wasn't long until he was almost completely drunk.

 

* * *

 

Tony stepped down to his car quickly, relishing the freedom. He knew he should probably fix things with Jet, but he couldn't talk to him right now. He knew he wasn't the man's first choice for anything, but he had hoped he could be enough for him. That he could make things right. _Wishful thinking, Anthony_ , Tony thought, in the smallest part of his mind that he'd noticed Gibbs shied away from. He drove a little faster than normal to his apartment and curled up on his bed. He'd pack later.

Tony slept for several hours and dreamed. He didn't know if it was his dream, Jethro's, or some weird combination of the two. Wherever it came from, it scared him. He was all alone in a dark room, very much like the room he'd been sent to as a child when his antics were too much for his parents. The walls weren't the same color, though. He'd recognize that pumpkin shade anywhere. It was a combination of a bedroom and an NCIS interrogation room. There was no camera, no mirror or table. There wasn't even a bed. There was, however, one single chair.

 _Oh, god._ He recognized this setup. The chair was this dark chair, but it was in a very unique shape. He'd watched too many episodes of _The Prisoner_ not to recognize this. He was highly tempted to announce himself as Prisoner Number 6 and get on with it, but something held him back. He waited for the barrage of questions. It wasn't long in coming.

"Are you pulling your own weight in this partnership?" The voice was his own, he noticed. "Or are you just dragging him down? You know he barely puts up with you." For a while in Peoria, he'd tried to copy some of the style of the interrogations and 'discussions' they put the guy through on the show through. His captain had told him to 'stop messing around and interrogate the fuckin' dirtbag normally.' He rolled his eyes.

"I don't know." Tony replied, honestly. "I think I might be pulling him down. But there's nowhere for me to go. I would if I could. He didn't choose and he doesn't want..." Tony knew that wasn't completely true. "He told me he might never have considered a relationship with me if he didn't have to." _That's a stellar recommendation_ , he thought.

"What will you do if he decides he can't handle being with you?" The voice echoed loudly through his brain, and he blinked his eyes to prevent them from tearing. _DiNozzos do not cry._

"I don't know," he repeated. "They don't know what the powder did exactly, so there isn't a way to find an antidote for it. They're not even sure about a couple of the chemicals in the powder. Since they all went inert..." He shrugged a shoulder and leaned back, trying to think this through. "I may not _have_ a way out."

"There is always a way out." The voice suggested dark things, and Tony was just in the mood to listen to it. "Always."

"The only way out I can see would hurt Jet, too. I don't want to do that." Tony shuddered at the thought of giving his lover pain.

"But would it be more or less pain than you are both currently in?" Tony could feel the separation widening between them, could sense Jethro attempting to drink his pain away, and groaned.

"I don't know." That seemed to be his mantra tonight.

"The end result would be the complete cessation of pain." The voice continued, logically taking things to its course. "It would not take much."

"Yeah." Tony ran a hand over his face. "Is that the only option?"

"Unless you can clear this up, then, yes. It may be." Tony lost the battle with his tears. Both in the dream and on his pillow. He tossed and turned for the rest of the night.

He woke up the next morning, reaching for Jethro, then realized he was all alone. He tried the mental connection that he'd become so used to only to find it sluggish and painful. He got up, got dressed and started packing things up around the house. The activity calmed his mind somewhat, though he still tried reaching toward Jethro every few minutes. He knew why the man was hurting; he'd had plenty of hangovers on his own. However, the voice's words kept running through his mind. " _There is always a way out. It wouldn't take much_." He packed up his movies, his books, his pots and pans, then sat down on the couch a little more tired than he expected to be. " _The end result would be the complete cessation of pain._ " He ran his hand over his face, much like his dream-self had done when the voice had spoken the words to him originally. " _What will you do if he decides he can't handle being with you?_ "

"I don't fucking know, alright?" He stood up, pacing the room, finally getting a terse response from his lover. The response was in the form of a grunt of pain, and a push away. "I don't fucking know." He repeated his words, and returned to packing, refusing to think much at all. He considered getting his own form of liquid _Nepenthe_ but realized that a double hangover wasn't something he thought they could handle at this point.

The voice seemed to speak to him, even in the daylight. " _Could you separate yourself from him? Is it really impossible?_ " Tony tilted his head, pondering the possibility. He turned his attention inside, trying to see where they were connected, considering how it might be done. He started pulling at the strings he saw, feeling the push from the other side when he got too close to something painful. _Maybe this was the way to do it. Maybe he could separate them if they just ..._ A few more pulls and he felt a slight loosening of -- something.

Five minutes after that, he was falling to the floor, feeling his lover's body hit the hard basement floor before he completely blacked out.

* * *

 

Gibbs stirred in bed, stroking his hand along Tony's body. He hurt badly, and could feel Tony's pain which seemed to be more than his own. He rubbed the spot between his eyes for a moment, trying to ease the pain in his head. He closed his eyes, reaching through the sluggishness of the hangover and -- was that a concussion? -- to find the link to his lover. He drew Tony physically closer, spooning him close against his body.

Recognizing the walls of their hospital room, he groaned. "Dammit. Not again." He buried his head in Tony's shoulder, breathing in the scent that had become such an important part of his life in the past few days. "Tony?" He whispered his query softly, not wanting to hurt either of them more than they really needed to. "Tony, wake up." He injected a gentleness into his tone that few heard. Something seemed to soothe between them, if only fractionally.

 _Huh?_ There was a semi-rational thought. Jethro felt Tony start to waken, and the older man continued to touch him, gentling him like a scared colt or a young child. _Head hurts. Concussion. Feels like -- Ohhhhshit. What did I do? What did I do?_ Jethro could feel Tony's mind whirling rapidly around in circles, trying to find the answers. Tony spoke out loud, the words not making much sense at all. "It wouldn't take much. Damn right. Ugh." _I almost wish it had succeeded._

Jethro didn't like the sound of that, but he didn't want to push. Instead, he cradled Tony's head to his shoulder, helping the man turn to face him. "Shhh. I got ya, Tony. I got ya." He didn't know what to say. Even with Shannon and Kelly, he never knew what words to say, relying on his actions to convey how he felt. "Shhh...." He felt a sharp pang of pain that ran through both of them, causing them to wince at its intensity. "What was that, Tony?"

"Hurts." Tony wasn't completely coherent, or wasn't willing to say more. However, he knew he was going to have to press the issue.

"I know it hurts. Why? What's wrong?" Tony tensed up in his arms, and Jethro closed his eyes, bracing himself for rejection. He could feel it building inside of them. He'd felt it often enough before, when she didn't understand how much it hurt. When she pushed too hard. When he couldn't force himself to love her, no matter how hard he tried.

 _You don't want me._ Tony's voice was small, like a child's. The thought felt like it had slipped out from a crack in his psyche. He inhaled.

"Shhhh, shhh," Gibbs replied. He opened his mouth to say more, but heard the door cracking open. He refused to release his hold on Tony, though the man made a half-hearted attempt at freeing himself. _We'll talk about this._ When he felt Tony's opposition, he shook his head. _We will talk about this, Tony. Just let's get this squared away first._ Tony seemed to deflate a little and drew himself in closer, resting on Gibbs' shoulder.

"Gibbs. Good. I see you're awake. Can you tell me what in the hell happened? Was it working? Was the stress of the work day too much? I need an honest answer." Brad came in and sat in the chair beside their beds, checking their charts and vital signs. "Because if that's the case, I will take you off active duty until you're more used to being in the outside world." Tony's mind screamed at that, and Gibbs continued his calming noises while glaring darkly at the doctor.

"Shhh, Tony. Not gonna happen." He whispered in Tony's ear. Louder, he said, "nope. Not the job. Personal shit." He didn't want to have to explain it. "Thinkin' it's got t' be a misunderstanding." He winced as he realized that he'd played a huge part in whatever it was. He wasn't sure of the specifics, but he could guess at some of it. "Old habits." From both of them.

"Well, you are going to have to deal with it, Agent Gibbs, because if you don't, it's going to literally kill you. You were both out cold on the floors of your respective apartments. We didn't even know to look for Tony until the neighbor called NCIS to make sure he was okay." He stared at Jethro with his own dark glare. "Too much more of this, and you will snap, either physically, emotionally or mentally. If any of those happen, I don't know how we'd put you back together."

"Yeah, Brad. We got it." Gibbs answered for the both of them. "How we doin' physically?" He knew he hurt, but he wasn't sure it was physical or something else.

"You were dammed lucky, Gibbs. You nearly hit your head on the table on the way down. Instead you whacked your shoulder, which slowed your fall. I'm going to assume your head is throbbing with a hangover?" Gibbs nodded fractionally, slowly, and Brad replied. "Well, I'm going to suggest as your personal physician that you abstain from alcohol or any other mind altering substances until you've not had an incident for two months. After that, we can ease you back into it. That's no beer, no bourbon, nothing."

Jethro could feel Tony wince in his embrace. _Stealing his coping mechanisms from him._ His voice sounded sad. _Next they'll say he won't be allowed to work with wood._ There was a sharp spiral beginning, and Gibbs reached up to gently cuff the back of Tony's head, attempting to startle him out of it without hurting him worse.

"Tony, on the other hand," Brad spoke up a little more pointedly, probably because of the head-slap, "does have a concussion. He was laying flat in the middle of the floor, having had whacked his head on the edge of the lintel. I don't know what the two of you were doing, but you need to figure it out. Quickly. I don't have any control over this since it's experimental and internal, but if you don't get it squared away, I'm going to keep you here for a week and mandatorily assign a shrink to you until you get sick of her and finally work through this shit." Brad leaned forward. "I know you want to catch this guy. I know you know who it is and what he did, sort of. But if you let him kill you, you're not going to get to catch anyone, and ..." Brad kept talking, but Gibbs tuned him out, listening more closely to the swirls of thought coming from his lover's mind.

" _There is always a way out. It wouldn't take much..._ " Gibbs could hear Tony's mind replaying a quote from somewhere. " _I don't want to hurt him... But would it be more or less pain than you are currently in?_ " Gibbs started putting clues together, pulling little strands of memory from both their minds like a case. He started stacking things up, and groaned, interrupting Brad's continuing harrangue.

"No. Tony. Anthony." That stopped him, Gibbs noticed. "Anthony, look at me." He lifted Tony's head from his shoulder, gazing at his face, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm sorry." That was the first thing. The second needed to be said right away. "Please." He switched to mental voice, not because he was ashamed to say this out loud, but because it was a private enough thing. _Please, Tony. Don't leave me. Please don't leave me._ He could make himself heard inside, allowing all the emotion he couldn't show on his face to course through his thoughts. _I don't know what I would do if you left me. Losing my girls nearly broke me. This? This would. This would shatter me into a million pieces. I didn't want you to see because I don't like looking at those memories. They hurt. And I feel like such an idiot that I didn't/couldn't save them. You can dig through all you want. I just have never been able to deal with the pain. Even with the reminders there for you to see on my 'desk'. It still stays buried._

Jet kept whispering mentally, making the soothing noises outwardly, peripherally aware that Brad had stopped his lecture and had slipped out of the room. Tony relaxed as Jethro loosened his grip for just a minute, stepping out of the bed, dragging the IV with him to the door to make sure it was shut and locked. _I want a little privacy for a bit, Tony._ He felt a tendril of hope begin in Tony's mind, and smiled.

Tony's voice was gravelly when he responded. "You broke Rule 6, Boss."

Jethro's mind replied quickly to that. _Fuck Rule 6._

Tony laughed, and buried his head in Jethro's shoulder again. "Yeah. You saw that memory of my dad. That kind of thing was the only time he talked to me more than just to say, 'Hello, how are you, did you do well?' It was _always_ about getting along in the world. Now, I realize he may have been trying to give me fatherly advice the best he knew how. You've seen it, Boss..." _You know what he's like. It's all about getting there. I mean..._ Tony shrugged. _So tired, and my head hurts. It really hurts, Jet._

"C'mon, babe. Let's kiss for a bit to reconnect, and then we'll sleep. We can talk inside. Alright?" They both knew he was talking about the space inside their shared thoughts. Jethro kissed Tony on the forehead gently, then lowered his mouth to lick his way into a deep, drugging kiss that lasted until Jethro felt Tony's breath shorten. He pulled back a little, let Tony initiate a kiss or two, then pulled completely away. Tony complained in his mind, but Jet stood again, unlocking the door. Then he crawled back into the bed and resumed kissing him for a while until they were both satisfied. Then they both fell asleep.

* * *

 

Tony leaned into the kiss, fully enjoying the sensation of having his lover back in his arms. He was surprised and pleased that Jethro had apologized. He was also embarrassed that he'd completely misunderstood the man. He set it aside, knowing they'd get the chance to talk while they let their bodies rest, and returned to the kiss in earnest. He sighed happily, holding Jet tightly to himself. After they kissed for a while and Tony had calmed down enough to rest, they both fell into a more peaceful sleep.

They immediately found themselves in their shared space, standing at their own desks. Tony sat down at his, propping his feet up on the desk top. "Sounds like we've got a lot of shit to air out, huh?" He wasn't going to pull any punches. "I realize I wasn't completely honest with you. Or even with myself." He tucked his hands behind his head. "When I pulled that strand and you reacted to memories of Shannon, you shoved me away a little. I realize it was probably a knee-jerk reaction to the memories themselves and to the forceful way I looked at them, but you pushed. And it hurt like fucking hell, Jethro. And it just spiraled from there." He closed his eyes, feeling a weight of hurt lift from his chest. "It was like a physical pain ripping at my psyche. You didn't want me. I was rejected. Again. And there wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it. I couldn't walk away, I couldn't make a joke about it, I couldn't smile and say, 'It's fine...'" He stood, pacing now, hands held out and gesturing wildly. "It felt very much like being told to go to my room because, 'this is something you'll understand when you're older, Junior.'" He parroted his father's voice. "I couldn't see past what you were immediately thinking. I couldn't get past the fact that you were hurting because of what I did. And you pushed." He paused, sitting on the corner of his desk, looking across the orange-colored space to where Jethro sat at his desk, looking at the pictures.

"Yeah." Gibbs sounded preoccupied, and the little spark of hope that had started in Tony's chest began to flicker like a candle in a gust of cold wind. "Yeah." That sounded more engaged. "Have a bad habit of stuffin' painful stuff away until I can't help but deal with it, and then it explodes in my face. Kinda why I went after Hernandez. I wasn't dealin' too well with th' pain of losin' my girls, and here Mike was offerin' me a chance to _do_ somethin' about it. I thought at the very least, I could take care of 'em one more time. Turns out it didn't work out that way."

Tony knew most of this, and considered interrupting him, but something held him back. He sighed, and nodded, just listening. He decided to move back around the edge of the desk where the seat was more comfortable. He sat back down in his chair, leaning across the desk to see the expressions playing across his lover's face.

"It's also why I got into that dammed fight with Ed and Chuck." Tony could see the fight replaying on their shared screen and could feel the pain of the hits from Chuck's hand while Ed held him in place. "I didn't want t' deal with it anymore, and they kept pushin'."

"Deal with what, Jethro?" He wanted to see where this was leading, and wanted to know if his lover would come clean now.

"Mom had died a coupla months before, and they kept pushin', makin' sly remarks about things bein' easier. My mom wasn't the most intelligent person at times, made a few stupid decisions of her own, and it bein' a small town, everyone knew about it. She and Dad were havin' issues when they found the cancer, and it wasn't long after that that she died. So, they kept makin' all these remarks. Kinda like you do with McGee. Subtle. Pushin'. With you, I know you're pushin' t' make Tim a better man. With them, it was 'cause they didn't like Jack havin' left the mine. It messed things up. And he was outsellin' the company store. Fairer prices and no company script shit. You know how all that goes."

"Yeah." Tony had dealt with some of that with friends and family and their own businesses. People expected you to buy from family or close friends, but it often cost more than money and took a lifetime to pay off.

"Anyway. Gettin' sidetracked. So, one day, I'd just damn well had enough. I glared at 'em -- didn't do a damn thing -- and when they kept pushin', I slugged Chuck in the face. Gave him a black eye." Tony snorted at the look of pride on Jethro's face. "Well, that wasn't good for business, nor was it good for their standing in town, so Chuck tells Ed t' hold me, and he starts whalin' on me. By the time Dad showed up with the shotgun, Chuck had rearranged my face." Jethro shook his head at the memory. "Bruised me up pretty well too. I got a lashin' -- well, a lashin' across my ass as well as a tongue lashin' for fightin'. Didn't have a chance to explain. Not sure I could've or would've at the time anyway." Tony noticed that he sounded resigned to the misunderstandings between him and Jackson.

"You didn't get along with your dad, did you?" Tony asked, grabbing some rubber band or something from his desk and fiddling with it, occupying a part of his brain with it so that he could sit still enough to listen to this.

Jethro snorted before he answered. "No. We used t' butt heads like two billy goats arguin' over tall grass." He shrugged. "S' how things were. I talked t' Mom, and Mom'd explain it t' Dad. Usually, we were sayin' the same thing, just with different words." He looked away, and Tony momentarily closed his eyes at his own memories. "When Mom died, that got taken away and I didn't know how t' deal with him alone. So, I just ignored him, and when it blew up, we both backed away even more." He looked at Tony, and Tony felt the intensity of his gaze. "Became SOP for how I dealt with shit. Shove it, ignore it, back away. Shan was the only one who got me t' talk things through. Took a few blowouts t' get there, though." He ran a hand through his hair, and Tony grinned. "We'll have t' figure out how t' deal with it, because this comin' t' the hospital t' talk out an argument shit -- it'll get old pretty damn quickly."

"No joke." They were in agreement on that. Tony leaned back again, and considered what he wanted to say. "I told you about what my Dad was like. And you've met him. I don't think he intentionally set out to hurt me. He just -- well, it's pretty similar, actually, Jethro. It was Mom's job to deal with all the shit I had. I had issues? I should go talk to Mom. I needed something? Talk to the staff or talk to Mom. It was partially the stereotype of her role, and partially that my father has never really liked children. I come by that honestly, Boss." He stretched out on the chair, lifting his feet to the top of the desk again. It was his 'thinking pose.' "So, when she died, he had no clue how to deal with a little boy whose world was stories, dreams and movies. That's from my Mom, too. We'd sit and watch movies. I told you about 'Angel.'" He had. 'Angel with a Dirty Face' was the last movie he saw with his mother.

Tony continued. "When things were tough and we couldn't get out to do something, we'd sit and she'd tell me stories, or we'd watch her old movies, or something." He sighed. "I learned to pretend that everything was fine, and eventually, I'd either move on, or it became unimportant. I learned that the Boss, or the lover, or the parent was more important, and that I needed to always defer to them. I learned that my dreams and my fantasies and my secret lives were closely guarded treasure, because if someone got a hold of them, they could twist them, forbid them, or tarnish them forever. It was easier to live _somewhere_ else, or be someone else than it was to deal with reality. You know how good I am at constructing personae, and making sure they fit exactly? That's where I learned all that. Become what they expect. Fit in." He shrugged, pulling his feet off the table and sitting up again. "It was easier than going against the flow. Then, when I really needed to, I could make a stand and everybody would go, 'Where'd the Hell'd you come from?' It was all very dramatic. Like my own personal movie." He grinned. "But, it makes me look like an idiot sometimes. So, I don't disabuse people of the notion until I really need to. It's another cover. And, it works." He fell silent, wondering what Jethro would say.

"So I'm trained to push when things get rough, and you're trained to step back. That's not gonna work, Tony. I might have t' do some steppin' closer, and you might have t' get in my face. And I need honesty. I know you got this whole 'movie magic' thing goin' on, and if that works, we'll both walk through it and deal. But we've gotta figure this out. And not just because I have t' fuck ya to stay sane. Which isn't a hardship at all."

"It sounded like it. When you talked to Smith -- Ham, whatever his name is -- and when you talked to Jack, and Fornell, even, you made it sound like you would rather be anywhere but in my bed. And it really hurt, because I was trying my best to do everything I could to make it easier for you. I felt like I was offering my best on a silver platter, and you looked at it and ... well, spit on it."

"Not my intention, Tone." Jethro stood up, walking over to Tony's desk, insinuating himself between his lover's legs. "Hate bein' trapped, yeah. I'll admit that. Hate havin' my choices taken away. Mighta noticed I've got a thing about control." Gibbs shrugged, and Tony snorted at the man's sense of understatement. "But this thing with you isn't a hardship at all. Best damn thing t' happen to me in about ten years. Or more. Just dealin' with the shit of havin' someone inside my head. Not used to that. Glad it's you, but it's a damn huge change." Gibbs paused, squatting down so that he could look Tony in the eye. "Really glad it was you. Couldn't handle it bein' anybody else. That includes Shan, I think. Don't think she'd've done well as an agent. We'd have had t' do somethin' entirely different, and I don't know if we'd've survived all that." He shuddered.

Jethro continued. "You wanna see my girls? You wanna know anything about 'em? Go ahead. Can't always promise I'll watch with ya or whatever." He edged closer, and Tony leaned in, touching their foreheads together. "But, Tony, you gotta tell me. I'm an angry, bitter old bastard, and I'm as stubborn as a mule." He pulled back from Tony's touch, reaching instead for the other man's hands. "It's a hell of a situation. Don't like it. Mostly because it makes me change too fast, and because I know I'm a mean old bastard and hurt people too much. Wasn't intendin' t' get involved with anybody..." He held up their entwined hands, kissing at the knuckles of Tony's hand, forestalling his complaints. "Had resigned myself t' sittin' on the front porch, watchin' the kids go by, yellin at 'em to stay off my lawn." Tony couldn't help but laugh. Jethro shrugged and stroked the side of Tony's hands. "But now that I got ya? I'm damn well never lettin' ya go. You got that?" He leaned in, pressing his lips against Tony's, tilting his head a little. The touch was like fire. They weren't doing this body to body; they were touching directly mind to mind, and it was a thrill. Like a drug. "Damn." He pulled away, and Tony leaned back, breathless. Tony started to say something, then Jethro barked a short laugh. "Wonder what'd be like t' fuck in here."

Tony shuddered and drew the man close, chuckling in his ear.


	15. Chapter 15

****  
**Chapter 15**

When they woke up after a couple concussion checks and routine exams later, Gibbs looked up at Brad and frowned. "We figured out what it was. Can we go home now? We know how to avoid it." He heard the chuckle in his mind, grabbed Tony's hand, and smiled. "Gonna take some work, but it's damn well worth it." He explained a little about the connection and how their assumptions and old habits had pushed them apart. "Stuck like glue, but for a stubborn old ass like me..." He shrugged.

"It's good for you, Boss," Tony quipped, and Gibbs just grinned.

"It looks like it. Please deal with this kind of thing before it gets to this point, will you? I don't think your team can handle you coming in here every time you have a disagreement."

"It wasn't a disagreement, exactly." Tony replied, voice still sounding a little small and worried. _It was more like a major foundational understanding. Now that we've got it squared away, I think we can probably disagree on little things without losing consciousness. I felt like I had nowhere to go_ \-- Gibbs could feel the dark thoughts swirling around in his brain, and leaned forward, heedless of Brad's presence. He kissed him soundly, shutting up both his vocal words and his dark thoughts.

 _You start thinkin' like that again, I will be doin' somethin' drastic to stop it._ Gibbs slid his tongue between Tony's lips, licking around in his mouth, keeping him focused on the exhilaration of the act.

 _You promise?_ Tony asked him cheekily, and Gibbs slid his hand to the back of Tony's head, played with the hair at his nape, and then whacked him gently.

 _Don't be a dumbass._ He still found it hard to say what needed to be said, but he opened up the space between them, letting Tony feel how he felt, then added, _this is what I would have felt like if you would have followed through with your idiotic plan._ He recalled the fear -- an earthshaking, heart-stopping terror that gripped his soul and wouldn't let go. He felt the deep grief of losing another lover to something he might have been able to stop. He felt the anger at himself -- deep, dark and destructive -- threatening to consume his soul and send him haring off to do something stupid in redemption or release.

Tony shuddered in his arms, grasping the intensity of Gibbs' emotions fairly quickly. His automatic response was, _Got it, boss._ Tony pulled back from the kiss, and looked over to Brad, lips swollen and eyes glazed. "Can we get the hell out of here now?"

Jethro just laughed at his lover, and shook his head. But he followed Brad to the front of the hospital to fill out the paperwork.

Jethro tortured Tony on the way home, sliding his hand up and down his leg, talking to him both mentally and vocally. "Gonna ride that ass. Gonna show you exactly what you mean to me, Tony." _Gonna fill you up. Love you so much, Tony. Need you so much._ He drove quickly but not as quickly as he would in an emergency. _Gonna get you home and show you exactly how much I need you._

Tony groaned, his mind replying happily. _Oh, man. I can't wait. Glad you're driving, Jet, because I'm not sure I could drive safely right now._ When he groaned again, his voice dropped an octave or so, a sound that made Jethro hard quickly.

Gibbs grunted his agreement and continued to stroke along the edge of Tony's thigh, purposefully ignoring the hardening cock nearby.

 _Oh, Jet. Touch me, please._ Tony's mind rambled on, continuing on the theme. They were both hard and aching by the time they arrived home. It was a very good thing that no one was there, because Gibbs wasn't sure it would have mattered. He intended to take his lover upstairs and fuck him senseless. He pulled into the driveway and sighed as he turned off the engine.

"C'mon, unless you want me to take you here." He hopped out of the car, grabbing his bag and rushing inside. He felt Tony following him, and looked over his shoulder. _Lock the door, babe. Then hurry up here._ He headed up the stairs.

 _I'm coming. I want you. I need you._ Tony's voice burbled through their minds, images and sounds and color and pure thought passing through their makeshift converter and making a long stream of thought that had Jethro groaning.

By the time Tony had locked up and come upstairs, Jethro was naked and laying on the bed, playing with his already slicked cock. "Strip. Or I'll rip it off." Jethro could feel Tony's pleasure at his intense, dark tone. _Told ya. I'm gonna prove to you that I mean this. So get your ass naked, or lose the pants._ He sent a mental picture of himself running a thumb over the sharp edge of his Ka-Bar.

Tony's voice sounded a little scared, but inside, Jethro could feel his amusement and excitement. "Oh, no, Boss, not the pants!" He grinned, shucking his clothing off and moving up to stretch his body to meet Gibbs', side to side, facing him. _Missed you last night. Woke up and you weren't there. And you weren't -- here, either. You were somewhere else. It hurt. I didn't want that. Didn't like it at all, Jet._ Tony sighed, angling his head and leaning in to meet Jethro's lips with his own. His mind kept going. _Needed this. Not because of the connection or whatever, but because -- I love you. I'm pretty sure of it. I mean, the only real experience I've had with love was Jeanne -- at least romantic love -- and ..._ He could have gone on forever, but Gibbs cut off his self-deprecating train of thought by insinuating his tongue inside Tony's mouth. Their tongues slipped and slid together in a now-familiar dance that began to reconnect something inside of them. It wasn't the act itself, Gibbs thought, it was the intimacy of the act. The nearness of his body to Tony's and the touch of Tony's skin on his own. It fed something basic in him that went far beyond basic sexual pleasure. _Deep thoughts like that, Jet, and I'm not doin' somethin' right_. Even Tony's mind-voice sounded drunk with the feeling.

When they pulled apart to breathe, Jethro chuckled. He pushed at Tony's shoulder, laying him out flat. _You're doin' everything just fine. Just lay back, lover, and let me take care of you._ He smiled, drinking in the sight of his lover's expression: flashing green eyes, a bright, happy, relaxed smile, and a slight flush to his cheeks that just fired Jethro up.

 _C'mon, Boss, time's a wastin',_ Tony joked, running his hands over his lover. Something flew between their minds -- information or communication -- and Tony began winding Gibbs up even more, touching him in all his hot spots, twisting his nipple roughly, running his hand along his side to that one little place on his hipbone...

Gibbs groaned and reached for the lube, flipping Tony's legs up and slicking up his own finger, sliding it gently inside, waiting for any sign -- verbal or mental -- that he was hurting his lover. "Love you, you idiot. Means I won't let go." He slid the second finger deep into Tony's anus, stretching and scissoring almost automatically. They'd only come together a few times, but they were already feeling as connected as could be. _Feel good? Hmm? You like it when I push through and find **\--**_ he grinned widely as he rubbed up against Tony's prostate -- _that?_

Tony groaned and bucked up a little, but Gibbs settled his other hand on the edge of Tony's hip, giving him something to push against while holding him still. He kept stretching until he felt that moment when Tony was beginning to get annoyed with the preparation. When that moment came, Gibbs slid his fingers out, replacing them with his dick. "Oh, yeah, Jet. Missed this. Need this." Tony's verbal litany carried on, and Jethro kept grinning, leaning over to lick, rub and kiss his lover's skin. Tony responded in kind, rubbing his hands and legs over Jet's skin, wherever he could reach. Jethro slid in slowly, relishing the dual sensations from their shared space. He intentionally pushed down all barriers, leaving the converter in place, but moving all the other little blocks that had managed to show up between them. He could feel Tony doing the same on the other side. The pleasure intensified and their emotions spiraled upward. He could feel Tony's intense need and care for him like a heartsong played on low strings: stirring and powerful. "More, please, more." Tony continued to babble, and Jethro licked the skin around Tony's nipple and slid himself all the way in, feeling his balls slap gently against Tony's ass.

He continued to push and pull, twist and fondle, lick and kiss until Tony's mind was spiraling around in the throes of pleasure. He could almost imagine a little figure flailing his arms with the feel of it. Tony chuckled, rubbing the older man all over. Jethro started thrusting and Tony reacted, thrusting his hips enough to make Jethro's cock push just a little bit further into his ass. Both men groaned deeply and began sliding into a rhythm. It wasn't a fast, punishing rhythm, but it was intense. They each continued to play and push and whisper and think until all the different layers began melting into a single symphony played over and over, louder and louder until, with a hoarse scream from Tony, they both came hard. Jethro shot into Tony's ass, and Tony covered their bellies with semen. The physical pleasure began to fade, but the connection their minds made seemed to be re-forge, even just a little bit stronger than it had been before.

 _Love you, dumbass,_ Jethro repeated as he grabbed a couple tissues from the box by the bed. He gently cleaned them up, threw the tissues away and positioned them both in their favorite sleeping position. "Night, DiNozzo," Jethro sighed fondly, hand stroking over Tony's chest slowly in gentle, rhythmic strokes.

"Night, Boss." _Sanding me?_ The humorous thought slipped out between them, and Jethro huffed a laugh before he settled himself in and felt both of them dropping off to sleep.

* * *

 

The next morning, they were awakened by a frantic call from Abby who had gone to the hospital to visit them and hadn't been able to find them, of course. Tony woke up to the shrill ringing of his phone and the grumbling in his head of a barely awake bedmate. "Get the damn phone, Tone." Gibbs was waking up pretty quickly as he often did when he had to be somewhere.

"On it," Tony replied, uncoiling himself from the tangle of limbs and skin that he'd found himself in this morning. "Yeah Abs? Everything okay?"

"Anthony DiNozzo Junior, you are in a shitload of trouble, Mister. Neither you or the Bossman called or warned us or anything. How in the hell did you get home, anyway?" Abby continued to rant even as Gibbs sat up, rubbing at his head where Abby's strident tones eched through evenn when he wasn't the one at the end of the phone.

 _Sorry, Boss. She's pissed._ Hearing the replied, _Ya think, DiNozzo,_ Tony grinned and spoke to Abby. "Give us a moment, Abs. You're hurting the Boss' head."

"You have me on speaker?" Abby sounded interested. "Hey, Gibbs." She fully expected him to answer right away, clearly. Tony snorted.

"No, Abbs, we're connected, remember?" He shook his head. _For a scientist, she can be kinda... interesting at times, Boss._

"Oh, right." He heard her slapping her forehead as she chastised herself. "Stupid. Should have remembered." She stopped, and Tony could just imagine her whirling to face him again, pointing that finger in his face. "You're trying to derail me, Mister. Neither of you took the time to tell me -- or anyone else for that matter -- that you'd been released from the hospital. That's not nice, Gibbs and Tony. Not nice at all."

 _Put us on speaker, Tone. if she's gonna talk to us, we might as well both talk._ Gibbs sounded resigned but fond. Tony did so, and Gibbs spoke up. "Had some stuff to do, Abbs. Finished that stuff up and fell asleep. Didn't mean t' leave you and the team outta the loop." _I'm sorry, Abbs._ Gibbs' mind did what he could never do out loud, and Tony snorted softly at the thought.

"Alright, Gibbs, but don't do that again. You scared me, Gibbs! Scared me! I went all the way out to Bethesda with some donuts, and you weren't even there! You going back into the hospital's hinky enough, but not being there when I come to visit? That's just not right, you two."

"You'd rather we stayed in the hospital when we didn't need to?" Tony's voice carried a strong sense of irony, and he could feel Jethro's mild amusement at his words.

"No, Tony! Don't twist my words." Abby was stomping a foot now, Tony was sure. "Just -- are you coming in today, Tony? Both of you?"

"Was intendin' to, Abbs." Gibbs replied drolly.

"Well, I'll see you here, then." Abby replied, then, executing a move she surely picked up from her boss, she hung up on them without even waiting for a response. Tony chuckled and kissed his lover good morning before dragging him hand-in-hand into the shower. They showered quickly, dressed quickly, and stopped by a local bakery for muffins and coffee for breakfast. Tony whistled most of the way to the Navy Yard, and Jethro just grinned. They'd decided to take just the Challenger because they really didn't need a second car for the two of them. Everyone there knew they were staying together while they recovered from the effects of the powder. The rumors of what the effects were varied, and that's the way they wanted to keep it.

 _Got an idea, Boss,_ Tony said, just as they pulled into the Yard.

"Yeah?" Gibbs took a long swig of his coffee, gazing over it at his 2IC before sliding out of the car to face the music.

"What if I called Joey again and asked him a few more things? Between the two of us, I'm sure we could maybe get a little more out of him." Tony took a good gulp of his own coffee before taking his customary position behind his boss as they both walked into the building. They got through security and headed up to the bullpen, both watching out for Abby as they went.

"Couldn't hurt, could it? Especially if you can keep those covers... maybe if you get enough of somethin', Ziva and McGee can drag him in and you can stay outta sight? Or if you haveta be seen, you can be lookin' like a soldier-boy caught here for somethin'."

 _Hate those cuffs,_ Tony's mind supplied. He was pondering Jethro's addition to the plan when they heard the elevator ding. Both men swiveled their gaze toward the door as Abby stomped out of the elevator, marched up to Gibbs and slugged him in the arm.

"Ouch, Abbs!" Both men spoke at once, and then grinned at each other.

"That was hinky." She looked between them, and then frowned. "You two are in such trouble. I waited for twenty minutes, Gibbs. Twenty minutes while they tried to see where you were. And then, finally someone came out and told me that you'd been discharged last night and didn't even call any of us. Not even Ducky!" Abby walked over, slugged Tony and Tony winced, rubbing his arm. Tony noticed that Jet was surreptitiously rubbing his arm, too.

"Stop it, Abbs," Gibbs ordered. "You already hit us once. Any more 'n' both of us'll have a bruise." Tony wasn't sure of the accuracy of that statement, but he went with it, nodding at her questioning gaze.

"We don't know how things like that work, Abby. Besides, we told you. We had stuff to take care of and then we fell asleep. We were too busy dealing with the stuff that put us in the hospital in the first place." Tony explained, steering close enough to the truth for the young woman's sake.

"All right, but you two need to remember that we care and that if you do something like that again, I will kill you both. I can do it. I'll kill you, and ..." Her voice trailed off as they finished the sentence for her in the stereophonic manner they'd used before.

"... and leave no forensic evidence."

"We get it Abbs," Gibbs added, moving over to intercept her and give her a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. He leaned in and whispered to her, and Tony grinned as he heard it inside his mind. "You know we didn't mean it. Sorry, kiddo." _Don't say a word, Anthony._

 _Wasn't gonna say a damn thing -- Leroy._ He let his slight annoyance show, but it faded quickly. "C'mon, Boss. Gonna try to call Joey again."

"Good luck," Abby offered, seemingly completely pacified.

 _Tony..._ Gibbs began, gazing up at him, eyes hooded and worried. Tony felt a gentle, questing thought push over toward his side of the space as though he were checking to see if they needed to wander off and discuss something.

 _I'm alright, Gibbs. Just ... trust me, please?_ Tony was already dialing. Gibbs nodded as he pushed his chair over toward Tony's desk, both of them feeling the need to be close during the call. "Heya, Joey..." Tony began.

"Tonio!" Joey replied. "How's it goin', man? I heard a word on the street that you was in the big house." Tony looked over at Jethro and frowned. He wasn't sure where this rumor was coming from but he'd use it if he needed to.

"Yeah, man, somethin' like that." Tony allowed his voice to slip into the accent. "Hey. Listen. Speakin' of that." He popped his mouth as though he were chewing on a piece of gum. "You got a couple minutes t' talk? Still tryin' t' find the bastard what framed me." He grinned at Jethro's wince at his noisy manner and bad grammar.

"Shoot. You figure out any more about that?" Joey sounded really worried.

 _Saved his ass a couple of times, Boss_ , Tony explained, and felt an agreeable and understanding reply begin to form in Jet's mind. It died in transit when Jet saw he'd 'heard'. "Well, we know who it is, just tryin' t' pin his sorry ass down. Wasn't named Varelli at all. Bastard's named Eddison."

"Ready Eddy?" Tony might have turned to Gibbs to mouth this to him, but he realized he didn't have to.

So, he did it mentally instead. _Ready Eddy?_ Gibbs looked as confused as Tony felt. _Wait..._ He reached over to get a piece of scratch paper and took the pen that Gibbs offered him without Tony asking for it. It looked like good teamwork and years of working together, luckily. "That bastard's Ready Eddy? No wonder I was left spinnin' mah damn wheels." Tony started sketching his little diagrams again. "Thought it was short for his first name. Hadn't heard ..."

"He doesn't like people to know that's who he is. He tries to be like a ..." Tony could hear Joey snapping his fingers on the other end of the line. "Whatchamacalit. A Ghost guy. One-a them damn movie guys."

"Right." Tony drew out the single word, sounding for all the world like he thought Joey was a complete idiot.

"No, you know what I mean. One-a them..." Tony grinned as he listened to the man flounder.

"Like one-a them Ninja assasin chicks? Like that one wit' the long-ass sword and the fake blood?" Tony did the gum-pop again, sending a warning to Jet before he did. Jethro's appreciation was evident from his thoughts.

"Yeah. Jus' like that."

Tony inhaled and asked the sixty-four dollar question. "Hey, uh, Joey..." He drew out the word, then paused, infusing his tone with the nervousness he really felt. This was crucial.

"Yeah, Tonio? What's up, man?" Joey sounded immediately wary.

"Well, uh, it's like this. I got a cop friend. I mean, he's a fed. Well, not like one-a them big agencies. Not Feeb. I wouldn't talk to no Feeb." The FBI was anathema to anybody working with the _familia_.

"Yeah?" Joey sounded even more wary.

"Yeah. Guy's done a lot for me. Got my ass outta the fire too many times t' count. Thing is, Eddy popped one-a his. He's a Marine, you know how they get." Tony grinned at the good-natured grousing from Jet's mind.

 _I'll show you how a Marine 'gets.'_ Jethro grumbled, reaching over and sipping at his coffee. Tony savored the flavor as it came through their shared space.

 _Promise?_ Tony replied again, cheekily as Joey fell silent, ostensibly to think through what he knew Tonio was asking.

"Yeah, maybe I could do that. Wouldn't have-ta testify, would I?" Tony could hear the worry in the man's voice. Joey was a small-time line animal. He was of more use to them out in the world than in the slammer.

"I'd have t' ask my friend, Joey. But if he can swing it, yeah. 'Cuz you're such a good friend an' all." Jet snorted at his bullshitting. Tony grinned, leaning back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk.

"Okay. Say next week? You think you can get your guy to set somethin' up by then? Cuz I got a thing goin' on."

"I'll call 'im Joey. You just worry about your _thing_ , man." Tony interjected crudely.

"Oh, shut up, Tonio," Joey grumbled, but he was laughing.

Tony hung up, and grinned. "We got him, Boss."

Tony watched his lover look around, see no one watching, and reach up to caress the back of his neck. "Good job, Tone. Now, let's get that set up, and get the rest of the details figured out." _Go home a little early today and spend some time in bed._ Jet's thoughts turned toward their lovemaking the night before. Tony knew it was subconscious, but it still made him look down and blush a little.

 _That'd be nice,_ he replied.

* * *

 

The next few days were extremely busy trying to find more about "Ready Eddy." Fornell and Ham had put out their own feelers in their own circles, and Gibbs was interested to see what they turned up. "Ready Eddy" was a bit of a legend in the DC and New York criminal worlds. Tony had heard a little about him in Baltimore, but not enough to make a dent. And since Eddison had been deployed for part of the time, his absence seemed to add to the strange mystery around the legend. Gibbs figured most of the story was hype, but even if part of it was true -- Hell, if _any_ of it was true, they could save a lot of lives by putting this bastard behind bars for life. He sat at the kitchen table musing over the train of thought, rearranging the pieces of the chain in various ways to try to make sense of it. Ever since he'd connected with Tony, he had a better grasp of how his own mind worked. _Guess seein' how you do things helps, Tone._ He grinned, taking a long sip of the beer in front of him. Pushing up on the glasses on his face, he returned to the sheet of paper with the list of information on it.

Tony lay on the couch, sprawled out -- rather fetchingly, Gibbs thought -- watching some damn movie or other. Gibbs was paying some attention to it, but only as background noise, both mentally and aurally. _Oh. I love this part,_ Tony's mind gushed as Bond did something less than believable. _Yeah? My weird ways have some benefit, huh?_ He was joking, but Gibbs knew he was pleased with the compliment. They were so complementary after all. Tony's mind groaned at the pun. _Boss. That was horrible._ Gibbs looked up, gazing over at what he could see of Tony, and grinned.

 _Thought it was pretty good, myself. Scoot up there._ He felt a pull toward his mate and moved over to sit beside him, leaving both paperwork and glasses on the table. He slid his arm around Tony's shoulders and leaned back into the couch, snuggling tight against the younger man. "Feels damn good, Tone."

Tony turned to face him and gave him that endearing sidelong glance. "Yeah?" Gibbs grunted his agreement, and then gestured with the hand holding the beer bottle.

"So, he's goin' in t' get what?" He had started watching a few movies here and there with Tony in the past few days, trying to get him to understand how much he loved him.

"He's going in to get a computer chip, Boss. See, the Russians have ..." Tony's explanation was cut short as they heard the door swing open.

"Damn door," a familiar voice muttered. Jethro rolled his eyes and bit back a groan, glancing over at Tony. "Leroy? You in here, son?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm in the living room. Come in and take a load off." Jethro called out as Tony shut the screen and player off, then started to move away from him. _Nuh-uh._ Tony was trying to push his hand off his shoulder. _Leave it. 'Less it's buggin' ya. Otherwise, leave it. Not hidin' from my dad. Already knows about us, and I need this. Dunno if it's just me, or the stuff, or both of us, or what. Don't give a hot damn, either._

Tony grinned, leaving the hand alone. He smiled up at Jack when the old man finally entered the room. "Hey, Jack. You need some help with somethin'?"

"No, I got it. I got it. I put it in this little backpack thing so I wouldn't have t' lug it around with my arms." Jack gestured to the black backpack on his shoulder. "Well. Ain't you two cozy."

"Yeah, Dad. Told you about it. Sit down." Gibbs groused, though he was secretly amused at his father's antics. "What brings you down to DC? And why the hell didn't ya call?"

"Did call, son. Nobody answered." Jack replied, neatly avoiding the first question with the skill his team attributed to him -- and Tony, honestly. He snorted.

"You call the landline or my cell?" He pat his pockets, trying to find his cell phone. "Dammit." _You know where it is?_ He asked Tony effortlessly before he'd really thought about doing so.

"It's up on the dresser, Jet." Tony replied out loud, making Jack look up at the two of them sharply.

"So you weren't bullshittin' me?" Jack gazed between them.

"Nope, Dad. Tellin' the truth, weird as it is." He grumped a little, but stroked the back of Tony's neck and mentally reassured him as he said it. _Mine. Keepin' ya, Tone._ He grinned over at the younger man then took a long swig of his beer. "You want somethin' t' drink, Jack?"

"Beer'd be good." Jack said as he settled himself into the chair. "That's gotta be really strange, Tony." Gibbs snorted at his father's words and then stood up to get the man a beer.

"Yeah, it's kinda different." Tony replied with an abashed grin. _Good, cuz I'm not letting you go ever, Jethro._ Tony replied with a ferocity that mildly surprised the older agent.

"How does it work?" Jack wondered. "I mean, I don't wanna hear about..." He waved a hand in front of his body. "I don't wanna hear about the two of you." Jethro felt the sharp pain coming from Tony's mind and corrected his father.

"You mean you don't wanna know what we get up to after work." Jethro added a little bit of wry humor to his tone.

"S' what I said, Leroy." Jack sounded annoyed.

"Not exactly." That was all he said.

"Whatever. I wanna know how you survive so closely connected, Leroy. Is that too much to ask?" Jack took a sip of his beer and set his cane beside the chair on the floor.

"It's my fault, Jack. Don't take it out on Jethro." Tony offered shyly. "I thought you were saying something else. He corrected it before I could..." He shrugged, leaning a little closer as Gibbs sat back down beside him, reclaiming his former position.

Jackson looked thoughtful. "That close, son?" He looked between them, and Gibbs just had to smile. Jethro ran his free hand over his face and nodded. Jack blinked. "Well, damn."

"Hard to even begin to explain, Dad. Best damn thing that's ever happened to me, but ..." _Don't take this to mean ..._ Gibbs tried to explain, hoping to cut off Tony's worry. When he got an understanding from the younger man, he continued. "Hardest thing, too. Gettin' used t' havin' another mind in my space. Was a bit of an adjstment when I didn't even have anybody in the livin' space at all." He gestured broadly to the room.

 _Is that what you meant before,_ Tony asked him, turning to look at him with a frown. Gibbs could hear his mind pulling all the pieces from both sides of their mind. _You weren't talking about the fact that it was **me** , you were talking about it being anybody. About the experience itself._

Jet nodded, turning to peck his lover on the cheek. "Yeah, Tone." He kept his tone dry and amused, stroking the back of his neck. _As I said, woulda been a pisspot of a mess with anybody._

"Looks kinda weird, Leroy." Jack's eyes were full of worry, but he wore that damn wry smile.

 _You've got no place to talk, Boss. You give me that smile all the time._ Tony snickered, sliding his hand over to stroke Jethro's thigh.

Gibbs stared at his lover with a mock-glare and then nodded at his father's words. "Yeah. Hell of a thing. But ..." He gestured with his hand. "If it wasn't Tony, I think I'd've kicked the person's ass or somethin'. Tony gets me."

"You had a thing for my boy, Tony?" Jack asked bluntly, taking a long pull of his beer.

"Yeah. I've -- uh -- I've had a thing for -- uh -- Leroy for a long time." Tony blushed as he leaned into Gibbs' touch.

"And you liked him, Leroy?" Jack asked pointedly, daring him to lie.

"Hadn't considered marryin' him, but yeah." Gibbs shrugged, continuing to play with the hair on the back of Tony's neck, attempting to soothe both of them.

"Well." Jack looked between them, nodded once, and then slapped his leg with his free hand. "Welcome to the family, then."

Tony looked so flustered for a moment that Gibbs just had to grin.

After a few minutes of letting the sentiment settle between them, Jethro lowered his arm and sighed. "So, you stickin' around for a few days, Dad?" Jethro felt Tony's nerves start jangling, and reached over to entwine their hands. _S'alright, Tony. He considers you family, it's good. Won't grump at you like he does me. In-laws got a different code._ He snorted, and Tony blinked.

 _In-laws? You would... you'd..._ Tony still sounded surprised that Jet wanted to stay with him.

"Damn right I would," he replied audibly, not really caring about the curious look on his father's face. _In fact... been thinkin about findin' some way of provin' it to ya. What do ya need, Tone? A ring and a preacher? A tattoo? What?_

 _I don't know, Boss. Let me get back to you on that._ And Jethro knew he would. He could already feel Tony's mind pondering all the alternatives, pulling pieces of experiences and ideas from various times and places. He grinned.

"Yeah, I think I'll stick around for a while if you don't mind, Leroy. See what I can do to help you boys." Jack grinned. "Now. What's for supper?" His grin widened, and Jethro could only shake his head with amusement at the antics of his family.

* * *

 

Tony styled his hair in the bathroom mirror after changing into more comfortable clothes. He'd brought a specific set of clothes just for this. A green polo shirt made his eyes stand out, and designer jeans hugged his ass. He knew he looked good and spent a couple seconds making sure the 'Tonio DeLuca' persona was wrapped around him securely.

 _Huh._ His lover sounded intrigued at his process, amused at his primping and proud of his skills all at once. Tony grinned and winked in the mirror, pulling out the stick of gum that Tonio always chewed. _Lookin' good, Tone._ Jet replied.

 _Thanks, babe._ Tony grinned a little wider, blew a bubble with the gum, and headed out toward the conference room. _He here yet?_ Though there were times when their connection was annoying and frustrating, other times, it was extremely useful.

There was a moment of silence between them and Tony knew Jet was checking to see if Joey had arrived yet. _Think he's on his way up. Showtime, sexy._

Tony chuckled, slicking his hair back again, and stepped into the conference room to kiss his lover surreptitiously on the cheek before Joey was ushered in.

"Tonio!" Joey greeted him in the Italian fashion: one kiss on each cheek.

"Joseph." Tony's voice was somber, but it was still different from his normal timbre. He popped his gum. "Joseph Marshall, this is my good friend Gibbs." Tony made it sound like they owed each other a lot. _Not much of a stretch there, Boss._ He grinned over at the man. "Jethro Gibbs, Joey Marshall who is also a friend of mine. And may be an even better friend after we're done talkin' here today."

Gibbs snorted, and sat down, gesturing for Joey and Tony to do the same. "DeLuca, you're a pain in my ass." _Literally,_ his mind teased.

Joey laughed raucously, and shook his head. He took his seat and began to explain. "It's like this, Gibbs," he started, taking his cues from Tony as to how to address the agent. "Ready Eddy's got a rep, right? And he wants to keep his name goin' even when he's ... outta pocket. So, he hires guys to drive his black Explorer around DC and New York," he said it like a native, softening the R until it was barely there. "Makes everybody think he's around when he really ain't."

"Bastard," Tonio interjected, not having to fake the sentiment. He'd seen the look in Eddison's eyes when they'd interrogated him. He really was a bastard. Of the highest order.

"No kiddin', Tonio." Joey nodded, and Tony could feel Jethro's unspoken agreement.

"So, how we tell it's him ridin' and not one-a his rent-a-goons?" Tonio asked, flicking his gaze between the two men. This was the important part. "I mean, Gibbs knows about the Explorer, right? How do they tell it's him?"

"Eddy puts a thing on the antenna. One-a them happy-smiley ball things. Bright yellow." Joey grinned, knowing that this might be the end of the _mafioso_ 's career. "Otherwise, we all take it off." Joey shrugged at Tonio's questioning look. "Hey! Easy money." He grinned again, unperturbed by the thought of working for Eddison.

Internally, Tony squirmed, not liking the mercenary feel of the man. But he just nodded. "Alright." He popped his gum, and looked toward Gibbs again. "Gibbs, you got enough, or you need to ask him a few more questions?"

"Give me a moment." Gibbs responded gruffly. Tony knew it was an act and bit back a smile. "Let me think about it for a few minutes. You've got a few minutes, don't you, Marshall?"

"Oh, yeah. I got nothin' goin' on today. S'why I came up here." He shrugged again, the perfect picture of nonchalance.

 _He's always got somethin' goin' on, Boss. This is just more important._ Tony's mind cynically responded to Joey's comment, and he had to hide another grin at Jethro's amused snort.

"Somethin' funny, Gibbs?" Joey's tone wasn't angry, but he was curious at what Jet was laughing at.

"Just thinkin' that guys like you, no offense meant, Marshall, but you always got somethin' goin' on. It's how you survive." He shrugged. "So, t' tell me you got nothin' goin' on means you're either between big things, which worries me, frankly, or you just think this is a better use of your time."

"Well, sounds like you know me pretty well, Gibbs. How much Tonio tell you about me?" Joey's eye flicked from curious to worried.

"Not a lot." That much was true. Tony just told him the bare facts. It wasn't his fault that Jet could pry the rest of the information from his head like a microfiche file. "I've just met guys like you. Ya make the world go round, Joey." Gibbs' eyes sparkled with amusement, and Tony grinned.

"So very true. Ya make things -- happen." Joey might be a low-level criminal, but Tony remembered his days as a cop and would never discount the importance of an informant. Tim and Ziva probably didn't understand, but he thought maybe Gibbs would. _You do, don't you, Jet?_

A mental grunt was his only answer. Gibbs asked a few more questions, Tony stroked Joey's ego just a little more, and they let him go. _Get your ass out of that getup, Tone, let's go home._ The images that swirled around in their minds at the idea of 'home' were comforting and arousing, and Tony just flashed Jethro a bright grin.


	16. Chapter 16

The day dawned bright and warm, and Gibbs rolled over in bed, wrapping his body around Tony's. He nuzzled his lover's neck, just inhaling the scent that had started to become a part of 'home' to him. He sighed happily, and grinned when Tony's mind began to respond to the soft breath on his neck.

 _Tickles. Feels good. Tickles. Oh. Sunshine. Hey, sunshine. Morning, Boss._ Tony's green eyes fluttered open just as Jethro turned to look at his face. He angled his head slightly and touched his lips to Tony's, waking him up further with a gentle kiss.

 _C'mon, Tone. It's eight o'clock already, and if you know Abby, she's already on her way here. Told 'em nine, but …_ He shrugged slightly, knowing the thought came across even without the clear words.

 _Ugh. Yeah. Shower?_ Most mornings they'd shower together, usually just getting clean, though if they had the time, they might spend it in other ways. _Not enough time for that, Jet,_ Tony's mind whined.

 _I know, babe,_ Jethro replied, getting up and holding out his hand toward his lover who was also moving. "C'mon." He rolled his neck and strode toward the bathroom, idly scratching at himself. "It'll be good to get you all moved in." _You belong here. Mine._

"Yeah. We just have to figure out where to put all our crap. I mean, a lot of things, yeah, we can use two of. But like… both of us have couches. And both of us have…" Tony stopped suddenly when Gibbs smacked him lightly on the back of the head. Tony's mental, _Yes, Boss, Thank you, Boss,_ was nearly Pavlovian. Gibbs chuckled a little and pulled Tony along with him into the shower.

They soaped each other off well, being sure to clean the parts that seemed to itch. There were some bonuses to being inside a lover's head, and this was one of them. Of course, the downside of it was that neither of them could pass off their pain as less than it was. They finished quickly, drying off and dressing in comfortable clothes. Tony wore a pair of cut off jean shorts and a muscle shirt, and Gibbs put on a pair of cargo pants and a t-shirt that had been splattered with paint.

Just as Gibbs was finishing the knot on his shoe, Abby called from downstairs. "Hey, Boss-man, Tony! I'm hee-re!" Gibbs rolled his eyes, but looked over toward Tony wearing the same grin he seemed to be. _Told ya,_ he thought.

"Comin', Abs," Gibbs called. "Distinctly remember tellin' ya nine o'clock. Not even eight-thirty yet." He started to grump more when a whiff of something good registered.

"Oooh," Tony ran down the stairs in front of him, heading toward the kitchen and the smell of warm, gooey breakfast pastry. "What'd you bring us, oh, Mistress of the Dark?"

"Cinnamon rolls. Sorry, Gibbs, but I thought you two needed fuel to start your day. It's gonna be a long day and you know you'll …"

"Got it, Abbs," Gibbs cut her off before she could get fully engaged in one of her rants.

 _Would've had 'fuel' of a different kind if she'd have come at nine like we told her,_ Tony complained reflexively. Verbally, he thanked the scientist for breakfast. "Thanks, Abbs," he grinned around a mouthful of sweet roll.

"Sure thing, Tony-baloney." Gibbs rolled his eyes at Abby's response and reached for a roll, tearing it apart with his fingers before taking small bites. _Yeah. Would've,_ he admitted to Tony as he chewed his roll. _Be alright, though. Get this done, and then we'll see about…_ His mind trailed off, remembering their last bout of lovemaking. He grinned as he felt Tony's embarrassment rise slightly. He looked over and saw Tony's cheeks flush a little, and grinned behind the bite in his hand.

Abby looked between them, and frowned. "Secrets don't make friends, Gibbs."

"Maybe, Abs, but do you really wanna know what we were thinking about?" Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head again when she nodded. She started to speak, eyes alight, when Tony stopped her.

"Sorry, Abby. Not happening." The seriousness of Tony's words emphasized how much he meant it. "This is cupcake serious, Abbs." _Developed a code after McThief stole her cupcake. She was deadly serious about that. Better than, 'serious as a heart attack' or something equally stupid._ He shrugged, sliding a hand over to grasp Gibbs'.

"You guys don't know _hinky_ that is." Abby pulled a cinnamon roll from the box and began eating it. Jethro felt the spiral of self-deprecation begin in Tony's mind and glared at Abby before pulling Tony aside.

"Abbs, gonna say this once. Need t' say it again, we're going to have words. Like _Chip_ and _Mawher_ kinda words." He wrapped an arm around Tony's shoulders and pulled him close. "We _know exactly_ how hinky it is. Our heads. Attenptin' t' make the best of it. Either help, or keep your mouth shut." Abby gaped at him, and he reached over with his currently empty hand and shut her mouth with his index finger. "Need your support, Abbs. Got it?" He waited until she had silently saluted him to pull Tony into the other room. "And you." He snorted. _Feel like a father puttin' tape between the kids in the back seat. 'Stay on your side.'_ Tony grinned, and Jet leaned in to kiss him, licking gently on his lips in a way they'd gotten familiar with. He tasted the remnants of sweet roll on Tony's lips, and smiled into the kiss. He switched modes for his conversation, keeping their mouths occupied with the kiss. _Love you, Tone. If it's too damn 'hinky' for her, she can damn well keep her mouth shut. Like a little kid…_ Jethro's fond exasperation bled through, and he could feel Tony's mild amusement. _I'm damn glad it was you._ His mind supplemented the thought with everything surrounding it: _Nobody else understands me like you. You're the best damn agent I've ever had coverin' my six…_ His thoughts continued in the same vein until he felt a familiar pressure from the other side of their mind-space.

 _Air, Jet. Breathing._ Tony's mind sounded amused as they pulled apart. He grinned, and looked at Jethro's face for a long moment. _Hope you don't mind everybody knowing that we've been kissing._ His thought was only slightly tentative. _It shows._

Jet snorted. _Do not give a hot damn, kid. C'mon. Go finish your sweet roll, and we'll get us all moved in._ They headed back into the kitchen just in time for the rest of the team to show up. "Still not nine, yet." Gibbs grumbled.

"We decided that we would all get an early start and then we could get off of your hair," Ziva commented, picking up one of the sweet rolls and eating it with small bites.

Tony and Jethro spoke almost simultaneously, having worked together to decode her misused idiom. "Out of your hair." The rest of the team looked up at them with varying degrees of amusement, interest and concern.

"Realize this is gonna take some gettin' used to, but it is what it is, and we'll deal. No more comments about strangeness for today." Gibbs looked around at his team. "Got it?"

They all replied nearly simultaneously. Gibbs nodded, grabbed a sweet roll, and frowned. _Who you want t' take over to your apartment? Leave at least one person able t' help with heavy lifting. Got an idea._

He felt Tony go through the list of possibilities, including a couple of his friends who had come down from New York or from Baltimore to help. Gibbs began to see the benefits of looking at things like Tony did. It still made his brain hurt to try though.

"You know what I'm gonna say, Jet," Tony replied to his thought out loud. "Don't walk that way." Jet caught the rest of the old joke, and grinned.

"Got it, Tone." He huffed a laugh.

Mentally, Tony replied to Gibbs' question. _Palmer and Tim? That leaves Ducky, Ziva and Abby. And, if Tobias stops by, or Ham, you can wrangle them into helping._ Tony quirked an eyebrow at him.

 _Yeah. Forgot they both might be stoppin' by. Alright,_ he thought around the last few bites of his roll. _Let's do this._ Some strange music started playing in the back of Tony's mind, and Jethro struggled to place it.

 _Don't worry about it, Boss._ Tony sounded slightly embarrassed. _It's no big deal._ Gibbs let it slide, and they moved along.

The two teams split up, and soon they were making progress. It was just basically moving everything over from Tony's small apartment, since Tony had gotten everything packed up. While they did that, the two men debated the merits of using the different furniture. Most of Tony's was in better shape, so Jethro had Ziva and Abby help him move it out into the yard. Tony's friend with the truck would take it over to the homeless shelter and see if they could use it. If not, they would know who could. It was still in decent condition, or Gibbs would have just thrown it out.

It didn't take very long with all the help, and soon they were unloading things into the house. Ducky and Abby were especially good help at unpacking the boxes, displaying a precision and speed that Jethro knew came naturally with their training and experience. Tony took care of all his own clothes, muttering all the while in his head about how hinky it would be to have his friends handling his underwear.

Jethro was bemusedly annoyed and jibed back, _let's just get this done so I can handle your underwear, babe._ He felt the surge of embarrassment, and the short shout of laughter that sent Palmer running into his room to check that Tony was okay. That embarrassed him a little more.

Jethro shook his head, and paused in his unpacking to go up to the room, shoo Jimmy out of the way, and kiss Tony deeply, drawing them both together again for a few moments. _Was startin' t' feel the need to touch you. Not sure if it was the stuff, or just a general need._

Tony huffed his agreement, squeezed Jethro's ass with a tight grip, and groaned into the kiss. They continued to kiss for a few more minutes, then just as Tony was starting to get short of breath, he pulled back again, swatted Tony's ass, and walked unashamedly past a gaping Palmer to finish unloading the box of dishes.

 _You are completely evil, Boss,_ Tony thought toward him. _Poor Palmer's standing here like a hypnotized chicken._ When Jethro idly wondered where Tony had learned about hypnotizing chickens, he replied, _don't ask. Frat pledge thing. I'll show you the memory later if you really want to see it._ Jethro chuckled, drawing Ducky's attention, and shook his head, sending his lover a thought to the same effect.

Once they got all settled in, Gibbs called Fornell. Apparently, the older man had just gotten free from some extra paperwork that had been dumped on his desk. He was intending to come right over, and had gotten in touch with Ham who was also coming. Gibbs grunted, then grinned as he spoke into the phone. "Wanna make yourself useful, and bring supper for everyone? I'll pay for part of it, and," he paused to check, "Tony'll chip in. If nothin' else, we'll set up a bowl. Got plenty now." He chuckled, and could hear Tony's answering laugh.

"I could do that. Indian?" Jethro convinced him to get something less spicy, and hung up still laughing at his friend's antics.

 _Jackass,_ he commeted, pocketing the phone again. Tony laughed and moved over to the sink to get a drink of water. "Toby's comin'. So's Ham. Bringin' dinner. So, maybe we oughtta sit down and see where the case is for a few minutes. Since they're both comin' over. Be easier than tryin' to fit everybody into the damn conference room."

Most of the team's heads bobbed in agreement. Ducky looked slightly disgruntled, but he always did when they interrupted the team's limited relaxation time with work. Especially if it was voluntary.

"Won't take us but a few minutes, Duck," Jethro forestalled the older man's protests and grinned. "Then, we can get back to relaxin'."

Ducky pointed at him, jabbing his finger toward him sharply in remonstrance. "I will hold you to that, Jethro."

"Got it, Duck," Jethro replied.

  
* * *

Tobias drove to Gibbs' house on autopilot, glancing down at the bags of take-out beside him. _Leave it to Jethro to rope him into buying supper for the whole team_ He hoped that DiNutso wouldn't complain about his choices. If he did, he'd give it right back. That brought a smile to his face, and he wondered if the kid did that on purpose. _Probably._ He snorted. It took some intelligence to find the buttons to push to set someone on edge but keep their friendship. He shook his head and pulled up to the curb at Gibbs — _well, now Gibbs and Tony's_ — house.

He got there roughly at the same time as Ham, and nodded his greeting. "Got the things you asked for, Fornell." Ham began. "Looked kind of strange walkin' through the grocery store with only parts of a meal, but what are ya gonna do?" He grinned widely enough that his smile shone brightly against his dark skin.

Tobias snorted and opened the door, ignoring the look of surprise that crossed Ham's face. "Dinner, kiddos!!' He grinned as the group looked up at him.

"Tobias," Gibbs greeted him from his seat beside DiNutzo. "Made good time." Tobias nodded and started laying the food out, handing Ziva the Kosher meal. He quirked an eyebrow at his friend who was leaning casually against his senior field agent. "Shut up, Tobias." Gibbs groused, though without heat.

"Didn't say a damn thing, Jethro." He grinned at Ham who was watching the two of them cautiously. "Besides. I wouldn't dare be late. DiNutzo here would chew off my arm." He tilted his head in greeting to the younger man.

"Oh, yeah, Fornell, I get so hungry I just can't resist." Tony quipped back, and there must have been some mental exchange between the two men, because Gibbs growled at Tony and Tony's head nodded forward sharply as though slapped. Gibbs hadn't moved his hand from playing with the hair on the back of the kid's neck, though. _Neat trick._ He snorted. Tony continued. "Oh, sit down, Colonel. Don't mind these two. They're more like old, toothless lions than anything." He grinned at Tobias and then leaned over to kiss Gibbs' cheek to placate him.

"Call me Ham, Tony," Ham said, in a tone that sounded like he was repeating himself.

"So, if we may," Doctor Mallard began as he and his assistant began parceling out the food for everyone but Ziva, "let us deal with the distasteful business of our current case so that we may return to more pleasant things."

"Duck's got a point. Let's get the crap squared away so you all can go home." He looked pointedly around at everyone except his lover. Tobias snorted again. _Never was that good at hiding what he was thinking. At least to me._

They began eating the Chinese food and talking about the case. As usual, Tony was the one to start. "So, Fornell. Did you know that your man Eddison doesn't go by his last name, exactly?"

"Duh, DiNutzo, we talked about this. He goes by his mother's maiden name. Varelli." He rolled his eyes. Leave it to them to waste his time.

"Well, that's true, but he also goes by a totally different moniker, and I think you'll like this one. My buddy Joey pointed it out to me. Made a lot of sense to me when I heard it." Fornell's only response was to quirk an eyebrow, much like his older friend. It seemed to work. "Ready Eddy. My buddy Joey says that our man is the family hatchet man."

"The Blackstaff." This was their younger agent. McGee. They all looked at him with varying degrees of surprise and confusion. "It's from a series of books. Well, the term is found in several different ones…" When Gibbs' glare intensified, Tim moved on. "Right boss. Basically, it means that even though he's related to the boss, he has free reign to act in the family's interest, sort of cleaning up their messes. 'Hatchet Man' means the same thing, except usually, the Hatchet Man gets thrown out after the cleanup's done. In the stories I read, the Blackstaff was part of the inner council."

"So, like Spectres in that game you had me try?" Abby piped up, a noodle dangling out of her mouth.

"Exactly. Except if Saren was the only one."

"Focus." Gibbs brought his people back to heel with that single word. "Man does work for his grandfather. Did tell the kid we'd keep him off the stand if at all possible. So, we might need t' figure out …" Gibbs stopped, looked over at Tony with a faraway look that Tobias was learning meant he was thinking to Tony or listening to him inside their brains. Toby was still weirded out by the whole thing, but if anybody could survive this, it'd be Jethro and DiNutzo.

"What if we capture another of the Bat Brigade, Boss?" Tony spoke out loud, either because he forgot, or because he wanted the others to hear.

"Might work. Haveta catch it without that damn smiley face thing." This must have meant something to the other agents, because their expressions brightened. "Possible to put information like that on a BOLO?" This was directed to Tony again since he was the one with the experience in local LEO customs.

"You can put all sorts of crap in a BOLO, Boss. In fact, the more specific it is, the better. But it's always gonna be without the thing now, unless they've changed the game plan Which I wouldn't put it past them to do."

Gibbs grunted his agreement. He tersely explained what was going on, and once again, Tobias was left envying their luck and teamwork. Here was a team truly devoted to their jobs and to each other. And that was _before_ two of them were linked for life. Now… He shook his head, sharing a wry smile with the other outsider.

Fornell thought for a minute, then pulled out his phone to make a phone call. "Hey, Ron." He waited until the younger man was listening. "You know that punk that we picked up last week? The Varellis' driver?"

Ron's voice came back to him, and Fornell knew he was still working on the last of the paperwork. "Yeah. He's still in custody, though I think they were going to let him loose tomorrow if we didn't have anything else to ask him."

"Put a big kibosh on that, Ron. Gibbs and co may just be able to use him to connect their perp to 'Ready Eddy.'"

Ron was smarter than a lot of people gave him credit for. _Part of the reason he butts heads so often with DiNutzo._ "Eddison. Damn, that's smooth." He paused. "We could get Ready Eddy off the streets?" Tobias gave an affirmative grunt, and Ron replied. "Hot damn. That'd be great. I'll make the call as soon as I hang up with you, Tobias."

"Good. Go for it. Good work, kid." He hung up and noticed Jethro's approving look. "We're in luck, folks. We may have one of these drivers in custody. Ron and I will interrogate him tomorrow, and hopefully, we can use his information to connect all the pieces."

"I certainly know that Captain Madkins is willing to talk." Ham interjected for the first time.

"That's good work, Tobias," Gibbs nodded, shifting in his seat to move his hand to eat more easily. Tobias noticed that he remained flush against the other agent.

"If we have arrived at a plan of action, Jethro, may we speak of kinder things? I do believe that young Mister Palmer has something he needs to say." Ducky was one of the few people in the world that Tobias knew that could eat rice from a small styrofoam container with chopsticks and keep it neat.

"Yeah, Duck, we've got a plan. What'cha got, Palmer?" Though Jethro called the man by his last name, Tobias noticed it was no less fond than when he called McGee by his last name. It was just the way the guy was. He figured it was the odd combination of military practice and federal agency tradition.

"Well," the poor kid looked nervously at Tobias and Ham before deciding it must be safe for him to continue. "Breena and I…" Tobias tuned the rest out, figuring it was for the team. He knew the kid was getting married in the next few weeks, and there was always all sorts of crap going on around a wedding. Especially a first one.

With another quiet snort for his morbid thoughts, Tobias turned his attention fully to his noodles.

  
* * *

 **Earlier:**

Tony sat on the steps of his apartment complex, wiping the sweat off his brow. _You know, Boss, this is hard work._ He grinned and looked up at the sky, just gazing at the clouds. He felt a peace about this that he hadn't felt in years. _So, what furniture do we want?_ It was strange communicating to his boss and lover like this, but it was kind of nice at times.

Tony could see Jethro going through the possibilities one by one, considering their merits, weighing the age, use, mobility, comfort… He closed his eyes and waited for input. _Not a single-person experience, dumbass._ Jethro chided him gently. Tony grinned at the thought, and added his opinions, sometimes even forcefully.

 _Could use my frame and get a different mattress? Maybe one of those sleep-number things._ He shrugged, gesturing toward the truck when Tim and Palmer brought out his easy chair. They were taking the stuff over to Gibbs' — _no, our_ — house first, and then a friend was coming over to gather up the stuff they didn't want from both places for charity.

 _Mattress' fine,_ Jethro groused, good-naturedly. Tony felt him measuring the room, and stood up, moving back into the house to measure the bed frame. There was plenty of room in their room for Tony's bed. _Bring it,_ Jethro advised, then seemed to back off a little, worrying about crossing a line.

Tony chuckled, soothing him wordlessly. "Alright, guys, the bed goes with us." Tony called to his friends.

They efficiently finished up the task, packing things neatly into the truck. Between Tony and Tim, they'd moved enough in their lives that packing had become an art form. When they got back to the Boss' house _— no, it's my house now,_ Tony thought, getting an answering possessive growl from his mate — they unloaded everything easily, the extra help making things go even more quickly than they had at Tony's old apartment.

Tony sat leaning against Gibbs, listening to him enjoy baiting Tobias. Inwardly, he was grinning, hiding his face behind the container of food. _You really enjoy tormenting him, don't you, Boss,_ Tony asked, taking a bite of his meal.

Gibbs merely gave an affirmative grunt and focused his attention on the information going around the table. The news that the FBI already had one of Eddison's possible replacement drivers was a break. Now it was up to Tobias and Sacks to interrogate the bastard, getting confirmation. That would also protect Joey's cover. Tony pondered all of this with part of his mind as he listened. Another small part of his mind was pointedly enjoying Jethro's hand on his neck or sliding down his back, stroking gently, seeming to derive comfort from the repetitive action. _Feels good, Boss,_ he replied without a lot of conscious effort.

 _Yeah?_ The unsure question was almost impossible for Tony to catch, but he did.

 _Yeah._ Tony replied nearly as quietly, though he did attempt to reassure his lover that he was enjoying the older man's touch. He leaned back a little more, letting Jet's hand wander where it would with a contented sigh.

It didn't take long for them to tie things up and assign tentative steps to keep the ball rolling. Abby insisted on sticking around long enough to help them clean everything up, and then she was gone, just like the rest of them. Tony walked her out to her car, kissing her gently on the cheek. "Night, Abs," he said, grinning at her as she waved black sparkled fingertips at him. With a quiet snort of amusement, Tony turned around, stepping back into the house to rejoin his lover in their — _their_ — house. _First time I've lived with someone other than parents or frat-brothers, Boss. With Jeanne and Wendy, I was just about to move in — well, we were just about to get a new place together — when the relationship fell apart._ With Wendy, it was because of the distance and the job, with Jeanne — he pushed his mind away from the painful thoughts, covering them up with a joke. _I hope I don't make the house fall down around us because the 'Powers That Be' are in shock._ He snorted again, the wry amusement carrying him back into the house. He paused for half a second on the threshold, half-expecting something odd to happen as he crossed it. When he did, he found his lover standing there looking at him with a strange expression he wasn't quite sure how to decipher.

"C'mon, Tony. Let's go try out that new bed." Gibbs turned away from him, but Tony could feel something roiling around in his lover's mind.

"It's not new, Gibbs…" He started to protest, then shook his head. "No. No. This is what got us in trouble last time. Jethro, what is it?"

"You can feel that?" Jethro lifted his eyebrow in surprise.

"Damn right I can. Now, new rule. We deal with shit _before_ we go to bed."

"Good rule." Jethro grabbed his hand and the two of them sat down on the couch in pretty much the same position they had sat in for the whole night. "I don't like hearin' that shit, Tony."

"What shit, Jethro," Tony tilted his head, seriously confused as to what was bothering the older man.

"The 'house is gonna fall down around me because somethin' good's happenin' ' shit." He brushed his thumb over the knuckles of Tony's thumb, keeping their fingers entwined as he continued mentally. _You belong here. Nowhere else. Nobody like you. You're gonna stay here until…._ He didn't even want to think about their lives ending, either singularly or together.

"I wasn't … I wasn't intending to be serious. It was how I deal with good fortune. I'm always skeptical when things go well. Had the rug pulled out from under me enough that I try to be…" He slid his fingers in and out of Jet's, mirroring the other activity on his mind. The older man snorted, halting the movement for a moment.

 _We'll get t' that._ Jethro grinned a quicksilver little-boy grin that made Tony's heart catch in his throat. "I don't like it, especially when I know you deserve a helluva lot better, DiNozzo." He sighed, releasing Tony's hand and wrapping the taller man in his arms. He pulled Tony close, and whispered into his ear, the hot breath stirring Tony's libido. "Rule Five. Was true then, and it's damn sure true now. Got it?"

His brain automatically quoted Rule Five to him, and Tony could feel the amusement from Jethro's mind as he thought it. _Rule Five: Don't waste good, and you are good._ Well, the last part was what he'd said to Tony the day they'd met, but…

 _Damn right it applies._ Jethro's mind interrupted his train of thought. "Got it?" The ferocity with which he snarled the two words into Tony's ear surprised the younger man, and all he could do was nod dumbly. He let the thought sink in for a few moments, and then Gibbs spoke again. "Now that we got that shit all cleared up, can I fuck you now?"

Tony grinned at the fond exasperation in his lover's tone, and stood, taking his hand, dragging him up to _their_ bedroom and _their_ bed.

  
* * *

Gibbs made sure his gig line was straight, his hair in place and that he had nothing on his teeth. That was pretty much the extent of his 'primping.' His lover had taken over the bathroom mirror shortly after he vacated the space. Shaking his head, he remembered the night before, cheeks warming when he thought of the lovemaking they'd done after their discussion. Tony had seemed extremely — grateful for Jethro's care and for him expressing it, and between that and the slightly bigger, softer bed, it was definitely a night to remember.

"Dammit, Jethro, don't do that while I'm shaving," Tony called out, poking his head out of the bathroom to gaze at the older man. Jethro snorted, and moved over to run his hands on Tony's bare cheeks.

 _Wish we had a little more time, babe._ Jethro's mind offered the sentiment before he could censor himself.

Tony grinned, leaning into the touch, his own unfiltered thought crossing his mind, making Jethro smile. _Who would have thought you'd be the insatiable one between us._ He snorted, acknowledging the thought before shrugging and returning to finish his toilette. "Me too, Boss, but we've got a huge bastard to interrogate today, and I think between Ham, Fornell and the two of us, he doesn't stand a chance."

 _That's my boy,_ Gibbs thought as he knelt down to tie his shoes. It wasn't much longer until they were at work, looking at the bastard himself.

"Antonio Vincenzzo Varelli. What a pleasure to have a person of your importance here." They had chosen to interrogate him in the conference room, the agents from three separate agencies spread around him like a black wall of humanity. Between the suits and the dress uniforms, it seemed an appropriate simile. Tony looked up from where he sat directly in front of Gibbs, shaking his head at something Gibbs was thinking. "Now, I see you've brought representation, so we'll honor that, and just lay out the case we have against you, and then, if you choose to say anything, well, that's on you." Every one of them knew how it was going to go, but he had the right to say whatever he wanted to say.

Fornell took up the train of thought, starting at the beginning. "Two years ago, Mister Varelli, we arrested a man by the name of…" Gibbs tuned him out, half-listening for changes from what he'd read.

He kept his attention on the sharks beside the old man, his grin turning a little sharper and more feral when their eyes seemed to widen a little more with each piece of substantial evidence that the men laid out in front of them. Soon enough, it was time for NCIS to present their part of the play. He sent a mental wink and a surge of affection toward his young lover, and watched as the man stood up to make the presentation. He had decided to let Tony do the honors because his style was so diametrically opposed to the hardass line that both he and Fornell took. Sure enough, Tony began by humming a tune. It was some song by some blonde teeny-bopper if Gibbs remembered correctly. The important part was the "oops" he kept emphasizing. It was hard not to notice, being the only word he'd sing. "Oh. Right." The men and women of the agencies grinned at Tony's irrepressible nature, but the lawyers' eyes just narrowed. Tonio, for all his regal silence, looked ready to throttle the younger man.

 

 _Good, Tone. Tonio's gettin' riled up._ He had to hold in a chuckle at the sneaky feelings he got from his lover.

"So, Tonio, _mi paisano,_ I wouldn't have noticed a thing except for this one _leetle teensy tiny_ thing." He held up his hand, pinching his fingers together. "There was a dead man on my Medical Examiner's table. And his name was Valentino. And Tino, he wasn't even in _La Famiglia_ any more. In fact, he'd left the picture entirely. Wasn't a threat to anyone, except maybe the terrorists in the Med. I mean, he was pretty highly decorated. Been in the Marines for a hell of a long time." Tony sent out a request that Gibbs was only too happy to respond to.

"Get on with it, DiNozzo," he growled, and watched the effect his man's name had on the lawyers. _Nice. They know you, babe._ A surge of pride that he couldn't hold back ran through him, and he spared a glance at his 2IC to see the color rise slightly in his cheeks. That worked, too. Let 'em think he was embarrassed for being dressed down.

"Right, Boss." He nodded sharply. "Tino wasn't the guy that was supposed to be there. Well, Tino was, but not that Tino. His cousin was the one supposed to be standing on that corner that day. Just your luck, _Tonio._ " He grinned, the expression somehow free of any guile or anger, at least until he leaned in a little, his smile hardening. "See, it was supposed to be Tonio DeRosa on the corner. I told my boss it was kind of like a movie. 'The Wrong Valentino.' I don't know who I'd want to play my part, though." He paused as though thinking about all the possibilities. "Oh, I know," he snapped his fingers right in front of the man, startling him a little. "That young guy. Played on that Dark something series. Kid in a wheelchair. He's got the hair, at least. I don't know about those glasses, though. Because I've got really good eyesight."

Gibbs stepped in again, this time continuing the thought seamlessly. "Never mind movies, DiNozzo. Mister Varelli, we have testimony, freely given, that it was your idea to send Mister DeRosa to see Saint Peter, unless the man pulling the trigger has another maternal grandmother." Jethro let his eyebrows lift in derision of the idea. "And, … well, then there's the matter of the lab." The agents weren't expecting this, clearly, because they were all looking over at him with raised brows. DiNozzo's curiosity was a low buzz in the back of his mind, but he knew this in his gut, and went with it. "Little guy like Jason didn't have the funds or power to set up a lab like that." Tony caught on very quickly, as usual, and it was Gibbs' turn to be the recipient of a surge of affectionate pride. He steeled his expression, choosing to narrow his eyes instead of smile like he really wanted to. "Eddison would know what he wanted in the lab, but those machines are field-ready scientific equipment for high-end corporations and governments. Hell, I bet the UN nuclear testing agency has somethin' very similar to this." Gibbs grinned again when a look of shock passed over the old man's face. He made a mental note for Tony to text McGee to find out if they'd surplussed any equipment off to wealthy American businessmen lately. _Oh, this is good._ This was the part he reveled in.

"Well, if you have some responsibility for the lab, then let me explain to you exactly what your dear grandson was doing in that lab, sir." He backed away and let Ham take over. They had only intended to present this part as tertiary evidence in Antonio's case, more of character evidence than anything else, but if he was responsible for paying for the lab, then they could nail both bastards at once. And in a military tribunal since Jason was Army. And with the stricter rules, they could explain to the presiding JAG the effects of the powder.

 _God, I love this job,_ he thought again as they wrapped everything up.

 _Me too, Boss,_ Tony replied nearly automatically, looking up from where he was busily texting McGee. _Me too._


	17. Chapter 17

Leon Vance sat in his office, sleeves rolled up, filling out the paperwork on another damn high-profile case. This one brought to mind the Varelli / Eddison case mainly because the dirtbag was intending to kill a different man and shot a marine instead. He ran his hands over his face and sighed. _So much damn paperwork. Least favorite part of the damn job._ He picked up his pen, readied himself for more reading and signing, and then smiled as Cynthia cracked open his door.

"Director, you have roughly twenty minutes until you need to leave to attend the trial. You wanted to be there for your agents' testimony, sir." She gently reminded him of the time.

"Thank you, Cynthia, that will be all." She nodded her acquiescence and left the office as quickly as she entered.

Leon stood, unrolled his sleeves and buttoned them again, slung on his jacket, and took a long swig of the coffee on his desk. He checked his appearance briefly in the small mirror in the bathroom, then stepped out to head toward the car. His driver was already warming up the machine, if Leon knew the guy.

They made it to the courthouse with only a few moments to spare. Leon flashed his badge and stepped through security just in time to see Gibbs and DiNozzo stride into the courtroom, nearly in lockstep. In some ways, Leon envied the bond the two men shared. However, as a practical man, he shuddered to think of someone that close to him. He loved Jackie, but even they needed a bit of space between them. With a last quickly drawn breath to fortify himself, the director stepped into the courtroom.

"The prosecution would like to call Leroy Gibbs and Anthony DiNozzo to the stand. Due to the extenuating circumstances mentioned in chamber, your Honor, we would like to question the two of them together. There will probably only be one response, but …" The lawyer looked like he was going to keep going, but the judge waved him off.

"I've never heard of such a thing in my life, but due to the evidence shown me, I will allow it for this case and this trial alone. Further testimony in other cases must be worked out beforehand, gentlemen." Leon had to bite back a grin at the way they nodded in nearly perfect unison.

"Yes, your honor," Tony answered for both of them.

"Very well, then, carry on." The judge steepled her fingers in front of her and leaned back to listen to the arguments.

The lawyers did their jobs admirably. Leon could tell that the defense lawyer wanted to use the weird situation to his advantage, but with the strictures the judge put up, there was no way he could. The fewer people who knew about the men's … unique situation the better. He rubbed a weary hand across his face and tuned out the lawyers. Some days, he totally agreed with Gibbs' rule about them. He couldn't remember which one it was, but it was definitely in there somewhere. He'd heard them quote it often enough.

DiNozzo was doing most of the answering, keeping his words clear, concise, and appropriate. Leon was impressed. He smiled, pulled a toothpick out of his pocket, sat back and watched the men testify against the grandfather and grandson.

  
* * *  
  


It had been a long day. The Varelli trial had kept them in the courthouse for the better part of two weeks, and both men were heartily tired of lawyers. _Fuck. Totally know what you mean with Rule Thirteen, Boss. Those lawyers are even worse bastards than you._ Tony had known some lawyers who were fairly decent people, but even they, when they got in front of a judge, went a little — weird. It was like someone threw a switch. He could understand; after all, he did the same thing undercover and in interrogation. Let the rich prep jock out, figuratively spit in people's faces, and use all the negative emotions he'd been hiding behind his cheerful mask to get the job done. He still didn't like it, though.

Gibbs' only response to him was a quiet mental grunt. Tony looked over at him, then frowned. The man looked exhausted, and there was this thrumming tension between them.

 _Just a few more minutes, babe. They'll announce the verdict, then we can go home and fuck like rabid bunnies._ He gave his lover a winning smile.

 _Don't do that, DiNozzo._ Gibbs replied, part of his mind swirling in memory, fantasy and need. However, he was able to cut it off. He gave Tony a small smile that warmed the younger agent's heart, and then, as proof of how slow his mind was going, his gaze narrowed. _Babe?_

Tony shrugged, his eyes shining with mirth. _Better than, say, 'Snookums', or 'darlin', or …._

Jethro's thought cut him off, the older man snorting and shaking his head in fond amusement. _Babe is just fine, **honey.**_ Tony just beamed. They were getting some strange looks from a few of the people in the room, but Tony didn't care.

It only took a very short time for the jury to come back. Tony knew Jethro had expected to be sent home and called back at some strange time several days later. That would have been the worst situation, because they wouldn't have been able to get involved in a new case. This was much better. He stood up, brushing his suit in an automatic gesture.

When they sat down again, Jethro scooted his chair over closer to Tony's under the pretense of making room for the person on the other side. When he lowered his hand down between their chairs, Tony followed suit, catching Jethro's real intent. He snorted, brushing his fingers against his lover's, as close as they dared get in a public place like this. They kept their hands close, not touching, but still remaining close enough that they could shift a little every few minutes and brush against each other. They both fiercely wished they could just grab the other man's hand to offer support as they waited for the announcement.

"In the case of the People v. Antonio Varelli, how do you find?' Both men tensed up, awaiting the words that would either release them from worry for a while, or send them packing to Stillwater to collect a few things for Jack, then disappear somewhere far away. Neither agent had any misunderstanding about what might happen to them should the head of a powerful family like the Varellis get loose.

"Your Honor, we find guilty on all counts, including the counts dealing with the accessory to theft and misuse of property of the US Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases."

"Thankyou, Jury Chair, you are relieved."

 _Me too,_ Tony grinned, making a horrible pun. _Me too._

Jethro just shook his head bemusedly and they filed out of the courtroom with the rest of the group. "Wanna go find a dark corner somewhere and make out like teenagers, Tony?"

Tony grasped the hand Jethro held out between the seats of the Challenger, and laughed. "Maybe for a bit. But I'm gonna want to do more than just make out, Jet. I want you inside me or the other way around before the night is over." _I need you, babe,_ his mind supplied redundantly.

Jethro groaned, ignoring the fact that they were still parked in the lot of a courthouse, and leaned over, possessing his lover's mouth. Tony sighed happily. Jet jibed him softly, not moving from his assault on Tony's mouth. _I need you too, **snookums**. This case was a pain in the ass. Glad to get it behind us. Just want to curl up with you and fuck you stupid._

Tony's mind offered a wordless agreement. He leaned in further, sliding his tongue inside his lover's mouth. The two of them sat there enjoying just the taste of the other's mouth for several long minutes. An internal timer went off in both their minds at nearly the same time. _Roads should be a little less congested, Boss,_ Tony offered, reluctantly pulling back to let his lover start the car and drive them home. _What's the plan for supper? Or do we have one?_ His first layer thought was already planning ahead for the evening. One of his secondary streams was the longing expressed this way: _Once I get you in bed, I don't want to get out of it until we absolutely have to. Y'know, to piss, to eat, … and only just briefly for that …_

Jethro sighed again, grabbing Tony's hand and stroking his thumb along Tony's forefinger. _Yeah. I hear that._ He pulled out of the parking lot and into the DC traffic. "Dunno about food …" He seemed to be going down a checklist of plans for meals. Tony grinned at his thoroughness. A memory struck, and both men grinned at the thought.

"That's right. Forgot we put that on this morning." They'd thrown a roast in the crock pot that morning, and it would be nice and tender when they got home. Jack had gone back to Stillwater a couple days before, having expressed the need to get back to his store. He seemed pleased to see the two of them so happy together. Tony was glad he was gone, though, because he wasn't sure they'd make it up stairs before they got indecent.

 _Don't think about that kinda thing, Tone. Embarrassin' as all hell…_ Jethro's mind replayed the time Jack had caught them in the bathroom. The old man had needed the toilet and walked in on Tony giving his lover a blowjob.

 _Was, wasn't it? I think Jack was as embarrassed as you/I/we were._ Tony grinned, then slid his fingers through Jethro's for the few moments Gibbs didn't need his hand to drive. He stroked Jet's fingers, encouraging him to forget about the embarrassment and get them home.

Jethro drove in his usually reckless way, getting them home much more quickly than anyone who hadn't ridden with him might expect. They both opened up the doors, levering themselves out of the car in a nearly synchronous movement. Before they had joined, they were so in tune with each other that they got comments asking if they were connected mentally. Now that they actually _were_ connected at the synapses, the effect had increased exponentially. Tony grinned at the thought, striding toward the door, already loosening his tie. He arrived there just seconds before Jethro did, his long legs providing enough of a difference. _Hurry up, slowpoke,_ he couldn't help but toss back to the man directly behind him.

 _I'll show you slowpoke._ Jethro replied almost automatically, shedding his jacket as he crossed the threshold seconds after his lover. He tossed it haphazardly onto the couch, catching Tony in a spinning movement that pinned them both against the door, closing it tightly. Jethro reached down, grabbing the doorknob by Tony's hip and locking the door deftly. _Don't want anybody to interrupt us tonight. They need us bad enough, they can damn well call._ He growled wordlessly and pressed Tony tight against himself.

Almost as one, their minds spoke. _Too many clothes._ Two pairs of hands scrabbled to undo buttons, each man yanking the other's shirt up out of his pants and sliding his hands against his lover's skin.

 _God, you/we feel so good,_ Tony groaned, tilting his head downward to kiss Jethro deeply. _Want bed, though. Can't get the angle right…_ He pushed back a little, not releasing his silver-haired lover from their kiss. _C'mon._ They walked together toward the stairs, only separating when air became an issue. Amazingly enough, they kept the rest of their clothing on until they reached their bedroom. Tony pushed Jethro down gently on to the bed, then shed his shirt quickly. _You want me to take it off me, or you want to?_

 _You'd better, if you want to keep it._ Jethro was already peeling the pieces of his court suit off; he laid them aside with only the slightest attempt at his usual neatness. _C'mon. Off._

Tony hastily complied, having no compunction whatsoever about taking the clothing off and just letting it lay directly where it landed. He stripped quickly and fused himself back to his lover, meshing skin with skin. They lay sprawled together on the bed, kissing and rubbing for a few minutes, letting their cocks harden between them. Both men knew they could rile the other up and quickly send them both spiraling through ecstasy, but tonight, they wanted the reaffirmation of hands on skin, the intimacy of time.

After a few moments, Tony's cock began leaking, and he rolled off Jethro, continuing to stroke him and touch him. "Which way?" His voice was rough with lust, and he nearly growled his words. He grinned as Jethro shuddered at the sound, and tweaked Jet's nipple once more.

 _Aaagh,_ Jet's mind responded naturally. He turned on his side, considering. "Fuck me." He gazed into Tony's eyes, and Tony had to look away for a long moment at the intensity he saw there.

"Works for me." He reached over to grab the lube, pushing Jethro back down on his back in the process. When he'd grabbed the slick, he raised the older man's legs enoughto get at his ass. _Oh, god. Love you._ He started playing gently with Jethro's anus, and then got a wicked idea.

 _DiNozzo, what are you…?_ Gibbs started to ask, and then Tony felt Jet following his train of thought. Jethro groaned, and Tony's grin just widened. He lowered his head and began circling Jethro's anus with his tongue. It was definitely a different feeling, especially as he could feel the sensations through their link. He shivered with the pleasure, and nipped lightly on the man's ass cheek before returning to rimming, humming a little as he did.

 _Like this, Jet. Really like it._ He continued to stab his tongue inside, feeling the hole seem to widen to meet him.

 _Yeah, feels good. Oh, god. Fingers, please. We'll do more of that when I'm not so…_ Gibbs' mind begged, and Tony pulled back, looked up and snorted.

 _When aren't we damn hot for each other?_ He complied though, slicking up his fingers and preparing his mate efficiently. _Love you, Jet. Glad you're mine. So glad…_ His ind began the endless stream of endearments that usually accompanied their lovemaking. Tony knew they'd reached a new point in their relationship when Gibbs relaxed hearing it. He'd gotten used to Tony's weir — unique way of thinking, and it was good.

Tony finally slid in. He kept inching forward until he was fully seated, the mental check and re-check second nature by now. He sighed happily, leaning down just as Jet leaned up a little, their mouths meeting in a searing kiss. After a moment to let Jet get used to him, Tony began thrusting, pulling back just enough to angle his cock to hit Jet's prostate every time. Their minds were open again, as they always were, and their affection for one another flowed freely between the pair. Tony gradually increased the rhythm of his thrusts, trying to keep them on the edge for as long as he could. They had gone through so much and it had ended today. Antonio had gone to jail, and his grandson would soon. Finally, feeling the pressure build between them, Tony quit holding out and began thrusting harder in an erratic pattern that had Jet rolling his head from one side to the other, groaning out his pleasure in long, deep groans. Jet grabbed his own cock, yanked on it a couple of times harshly, and clenched tight around Tony's thrusts. Tony couldn't hold on to it any longer either, so he let go, pulsing deep inside his lover, shuddering through their mutual orgasm. He leaned over again, letting his lover wrap his arms around him for a few minutes before gathering the supplies to clean them up. He tossed the tissues in the trash, then snuggled up against Jethro, taking the shorter man into his arms and pulling him close.

 _Tired, Boss._ Tony's mind was already so tired that his several tracks were thinning out or heading to very weird places.

Jet snorted his amusement and agreement, and they nodded off to sleep.

  
* * *  
  


Jethro strode into the bullpen carrying a container of drinks for the team and a box of pastries. "Report." He set the food and drink down on Tony's desk and the younger agent began passing out both pastries and drinks.

"Petty Officer Jack Michaelson." Tim clicked the doohickey — _remote_ , Tony's mind helpfully supplied, and the man's service record appeared on the screen. "PO Michaelson was last seen…"

Gibbs cut him off with a glare toward his lover. "DiNozzo," he growled, finishing the sentence in their shared space. _I know I watched that damn movie, and I know his mother pronounced it with a short I like Nicholson, but I don't need a reenactment of the Joker scene._ He gestured to Tim. "Go on. Last seen.."

It was a tribute to the resilience of his people that they took it in stride. McGee continued on with his briefing, explaining about the crazy cousin and the apple tree she thought was possessed.

"We parchmented the neighbors and no one seemed to know what the cousin was talking about. There had been stories, but I believe it was the kind small children tell around campfires." Ziva nodded her thanks to Gibbs then Tony as she lifted the cup of coffee to her lips. She smiled slowly, then looked at the men on her team. "What?"

They were all smirking at her. "Canvassed, Zeevah," Tony replied. "Canvassed the neighbors. But she's right. There wasn't a strong urban legend." _Enjoyed that movie. Enjoyed what we did afterward more, though._

Gibbs allowed himself to remember for half a second, then gave his 2IC a mental head-slap. Tony barely winced. "So, the cousin flipped? Something in her system?" He hoped this case would be easily solved.

"Don't know Boss. But I'll go down to find out." Tony grabbed the extra drinks and pastries and headed down to the lab. _Right. Sorry. Mind just goes there. Especially since …_

 _Yeah, I know, Tone._ He waited until Tony was engaged in teasing Abby about her latest collar and wall art before looking away and grinning.

It wasn't the most traditional relationship in the world, but it fit the two of them damn fine. He sipped his coffee and turned back to the evidence they'd already collected.

They had a perp to catch.


End file.
